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SAYINGS OF THE LITTLE ONES, 



POEMS FOR THEIR MOTHERS. 



BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 



' And Jesus took a child, and set him in the midst." 



' Ani^els unwinff'd — whom human care m-jst tend. 
Till tliey can tread the world's rough path alone : 
But God o'erlooUeth all from his hiijh throne. 
And sees with eye benign, their wcaknees and our own." 

Mrs. Nortoh. 



BUFFALO: 
PUBLISHED BY PHINNEY &. C 
NKW YORK: 
IVISON & PHINNEY. 

1855. 




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Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1854, by 

PHINNEY & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Northern District 
of New York. 



J. dL C. E. FELTON', 

Stercatypers, Buffalo. 



CO]N^TENTS. 



Preface, 7 

PART I. 
Humorous, or Peculiar Uses of Language, . . 9 

PART II. 
High Principles, or Sweet Sentiments and Affections, C5 

PART III. 

Piety, or "^ords Preceding Death, ... 109 

PART IV. 
Poems for Mothers : 

Jesus, the Exemplar, ....... 141 

The Mother's Blessing, ....... 141 

The Eagle, 11(5 

" Nothing but Love," ........ i4g 

Household Festivals, - - - - • - - 151 

The Rain-losson, ........ 154 

A Mother's Evening Thoughts, ..... 157 

The Widow's Child, ISO 

The Home Treasury, 162 

The Beloved School-boy, IGl 

The Mother and Babe, IfiO 

Nelly's Request, ---.-..-. I(i9 

Charity-School at Christmas, ---.-. 172 

Buria! of the Emigrant's Babe, --.... 176 

Left Childless, 178 

Christ Blessing Children, - - 179 

1* 



VI CONTESTS. 

My Little Son, - - 182 

Home Happiness, --------- 189 

Requiescat in Pace, -------- 191 

Grave of a Fair Child at Mount Auburn, - - • - 19 { 

The Promises, --------- 195 

"I Laid Me Down and Slept," - 199 

Mary's White Rose, 201 

The Dead Infant, - - - - 303 

The Sister's Intercession, ----.-. 204 

Thoughts in a Church-yard, ------ 209 

Baptism, - - 211 

La Petite Sourd Muet, 213 

Sudden Death of an Only Child, 216 

" Another Summer," -.---.-. 218 

Death of a Beautiful Boy, 221 

Daughter's Birth-day, - - - 223 

The Consenting Mother, - 226 

"lay Her There," 227 

Child Dying during the Mother's Absence, - • - 229 

Departed Little Ones, 231 

Death of a Young Mother, 233 

Burial of the Orphan Girl, 235 

The Consumptive, -------- 237 

The Sheltered Treasure, 239 

.The Deserted Nost, - - 240 

The Persian Flower, - - - . - . . 242 

Arrival of the Children of Missionaries, - . - 244 

The Western Baby, - 246 

The Rabbi and the Jewels, .---.- 247 
Finding New Homes, .---.-.-251 

Faith, ----..__.. 2:i3 

The Pleasant Memory, ----... 955 

The New Mother, ------.. 257 

Brightness and Sweetness, - 2t.} 

Parting Thoughts, - . 26I 



PREFACE. 



This book owes its existence to a long-cherished delight 
in the wonis of young children, and a sympathy for 
mothers, the privilege of whose office is invested with 
such fearftil responsibility. 

It is not assumed that all the following selections are 
remarkable. Some of them, doubtless, owe their charm to 
the voice and manner of the friends by whom the inci- 
dents were related, or to the fairy faces that mingled with, 
and lighted up their scenery. 

Still, if the assertion is correct, that "not only all pa- 
rents, but all who have ever been children, are interested 
in the sayings of children," these pages will not fail of 
readers. I^Iay they also serve to deepen our love for the 
blessed little ones, whose simplicity of truth, and eloquence 
of nature, are as echoes from the harmony of Heaven. 

L. H. S. 

Hartfoed, Conn., December, 1854. 



pari iTirst. 



HUMOROUS, 



PECULIAR USES OF LANGUAGE, 



" Oh chiUlren young ! we bless ye. 
Ye keep our love alive ; 
And the home can ne'er be desolate 

Where such love hath room to thrive; 
Oh precious household treasures 1 

Life's sweetest, holiest claim ; 
The Saviour blessed you while on earth. 
We bless you in His name." 

Mrs. HowiTT. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 



Two boys conversed together of passing 
events, and matters of polity affecting them- 
selves, as only boys can. They spoke of their 
respective schools, and their differing rules 
and forms of discipline. At length they 
transferred their investigations to the domes- 
tic horizon, and the following interlocutory 
ensued : 

" AVho governs at your house ? " 

" Why, father, to be sure. Do n't yours ? " 

" No. Mr. Please governs us." 

" Mr. Please ! Who 's he ? " 

" Well, you must know, in the first place, 
that at my house, the kitchen folks are the 
masters over the 'tother room folks. So, when 
I go into the kitchen and say, * I want this ;' 



12 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

♦ Give me that,' 't is always, ' Get away ; ' ' We 
ha n't got none.' 

" But then I put on a pleasant face, and say 
' please ' in a loving manner, and out comes 
some nice thing from the old cook, and very 
like the housemaid gives me a pocket-full of 
sugar. So, you see how Mr. Please rules ! " 

" O, yes ; as the emperor's child said he 
ruled Eome — because he ruled his mother, 
and his mother ruled his father, and his 
father ruled the empire." 



Sooner than we are aware, little folks make 
application of sentiments that seemed to have 
been learned only by rote. A very young 
child had heard Watts' Hymn for Mothers 
repeated, and perhaps sung. 

"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber " 
had its usually soothing, tranquilizing in 
fluence. Perhaps nothing more was expected. 
Some bread and milk was once ffiven her for 
Bupper, in which she expressed much satisfac- 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 13 

tion, calling it " dood,^^ and adding with ani- 
mation, 

** All my -wants are well supplied." 



A boy before lie knew his alphabet, had 
beconio in some measure familiar with the 
narrative parts of Scripture, which had been 
carefully read to him by his parents. One 
day, he was permitted to look at the pictures 
in a large Bible, by which he was greatly en- 
tertained. Suddenly, he exclaimed with much 
emphasis : 

" Mother, mother, the Bible do n't tell the 
truth." 

" How can you say so, my child ? " 

" Why, did not you read to me that when 
Daniel was cast into the den of lions, God 
Bhut their mouths ? Here they are with their 
mouths wide open." 

That which addressed the eye was to him 
more forcible and convincing than what en- 
tered the ear. A hint may thus be gained of 



14 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

the efficiency of picture-teacliiug to the young 
mind. 



An instructor of some extremely ignorant 
children^ was desirous that they should make 
a good appearance before visitors who were 
expected. She, therefore,^ placed them in a 
row, and taught them by rote the answers to 
a few questions, so assorting them that e-ach 
one could answer correctly only the interroga- 
tory that was addressed to himself. Time did 
not admit of anything more, and she supposed 
them sufficiently drilled for the occasion. The 
questions were simide and direct, beginning 
with " Who made you ? " "Of what were you 
made?"&c. 

The company arrived. The class was mar- 
shaled. The first question was put, and the 
reply given at the top of the voice : 

" Out of the dust of the earth." 

Observing the teacher's disconcerted look, 
the boy hastened to explain. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 15 

" Ma'am ! ma'am ! I'm the second boy, and 
was to say, ' out of the dust of the earth.' 
The boy -what God made, ain't here. He 
warn't well, he said, and so run'd home." 



A gentleman addicted to careless joking 
told a little o-irl who was o-aziuo- with admira- 
tion at the moon, that it was made of green 
cheese. This she refused to admit, but he 
persisted in the assertion. Having been 
taught very early to read, she hastened to the 
Bible as her refuge in difficulty, and perused 
attentively the account of the work of crea- 
tion. Eeturning triumphantly to the charge, 
she said : 

" It is not so, for I have read all about how 
God made the sun, and the moon, and the 
stars." 

" Very well," he answered, " but does it say 
the moon was not made of green cheese ? 
You have no proof at all to bring in the 
question." 



16 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

" Yes, I have, for this was in the beginning 
before any animals were made. And if there 
were no cows, or goats, or any milk-giving 
creatures, how could there be cheese ? " 



"Mamma, mamma," cried a little one whose 
early hour of retirement had not permitted 
much study of the starry heavens, " here is 
the moon come, and brought a sight of little 
babies with her." 



Two neighboring little girls conversed, as 
they played with their dolls. 

" I do n't have a good time, when we have 
company. Every body 's so busy. And the 
maids are so cross. It 's all the time ' get 
out of my way, — and can't yoi take care o* 
them children? They're forever a runnin' 
against me, and I shall break the glass 
dishes.' That 's their song." 

"Don't you have nice things, whe:i you 
have company ? " 



SAYING3 OK LITTI.E ONES. 17 

" yes. But tliey are n't for cliildren. 
They'd make cliildren aick. They're for 
tlio g-rown-up people." 

" ]3o n't you love to see the house and 
every thing clean and handsome, and your 
mother dressed up beautiful?" 

" Why I can't see my mother, more than a 
minute. That 's another trouble. She can't 
stay with us children, because she must talk 
to the company. If we 're sick, and cry, 
nobody knows it but the nurse. And she 
scolds us when there 's nobody by. I hate 
the company, because we have such an awful 
time. Do n't you ?" 

" No ; I like it. Because my mamma always 
looks pleasant then." 

So I took the voices of these dear little 
ones into my heart, as in their innocence they 
told each other their troubles. And being a 
mother myself, I said, Avhy should we make 
our hospitalities dark and dreary to our 
children ? When the rooms are adorned with 
fresh flowers, and the best robes put on, ^yhy 

9* 



18 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

sliould tliey be in exile and banishment, tast- 
ing none of the balm-drops of joy that we 
pour into the hearts of our friends ? 

When our smile cheers the welcome guest, 
let us not shut its sunbeam from the tender 
plants we are training for immortality. A 
mother's smile ! I doubt whether we realize 
how precious it is to the unfolding heart, how 
widely it casts its radiance onward into fu- 
ture life, how it is remembered amid heavy 
hours. Oh ! feed your infant with the smile, 
and the sweet tones of that love which is so 
deep in your own heart, that if you die, he 
may remember together, the mother who nur- 
tured him, and the smile of an angel. 



" Eead, read the Bible to me," said a boy 
too young to speak plain. " Eead it loud, 
after I lie down in my little bed. Then shall 
I be wise. And a ' wise son maketh a glad 
father.' " 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 19 

*' Be gooil, my people," said a boy between 
two and three years old, as, mounting upon 
a block in the poultry-yard, ho proceeded to 
" preach," as he called it, to his feathered 
audience ! " I heard you quarrel. When you 
were fed, you snatched after the large pieces. 
Tall Turkey ! I saw yOu peck a small chicken. 
You did very wrong. You must all love one 
another, or you Avill not go to heaven." 



A little boy was fond of exploring secret 
hoards, with a restless curiosity. When pur- 
suing these impulses iu his grandmother's 
room, she sometimes locked her bureau, and 
put the key in her pocket. On one such 
occasion, he said : 

" Grandmother, are you not very old ? " 

"Oh, no." 

" Do you not wish you were young ? " 

" I cannot say that I do." 

" Well, how long do you expect to live ? " 



20 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

*' That is not for me to say. Why do you 
ask ? " 

" Why, I thought if you were not here, 
I should have much better times in rum- 
magino;." 

The mixture of naivete and simplicity, and 
the uncommon beauty of the young speaker, 
as well as the skill with which his good-hu- 
mored questions were arranged, made their 
effect both unique and amusing. 



A boy who paid close attention to the Scrip- 
tures, whenever he heard them read, had a 
great admiration of physical strength and 
vigor, and a correspondent desire to attain 
them. He was observed very frequently to 
wash his hands. On almost every occasion, 
when he could obtain water, and when there 
seemed no necessity on the score of neatness, 
he would be zealously practicing this ablution. 
To an inquiry into the cause of this almost 
constant hydropathic exercise, his reply was : 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 21 

" I wish to grow strong." 

" Do you suppose the frequent washing of 
your hands will give you strength ? " 

" Is not the Bible true ? " 

" Yes." 

" Does it not say that ' he who hath clean 
hands shall wax strono:cr and stronorer ? ' " 



A little girl of two and a half years old, 
was seated at the feet of her invalid mother, 
while she took some refreshment in her cham- 
ber, and received the leg of a small bird as 
her share of the repast. This pleased her 
much, and after taking every portion of meat 
from it, she regarded her mother with frequent 
inquiring glances. At length, holding up the 
perfectly clean and almost polished bone, she 
said with peculiar naivete, and an insinuating 
Bmile : 

" Mamma, birdies have two leorsJ'* 



22 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A little boy of between two and three years, 
was seated by liis mother while she was en- 
gaged in knitting. She saw that he took in 
his hand a few knitting-needles from her bas- 
ket, and said, " Do not lose mother's needles." 
Soon after she heard him soliloquizing with 
great gravity of manner : 

" Lose my mother's needles ! No ! no, in- 
deed ! For if I should lose my mother's nee- 
dles, I should be despised. And when I grew 
up to be a man, and they asked me, * Where 
are those needles ? ' what should I say ? " 

He gave to his voice great dei:)th and so- 
lemnity, at the closing question. It was 
thought possible that he imitated an intona- 
tion he had heard used, in reading a chapter 
of Genesis, where force and pathos had been 
given to the interrogation, " Where is Abel, 
thy brother ? " It was not known that he had 
possessed himself of tlie word " despised,'''' un- 
til the present use of it. But his acquisition 
and correct adaptation of new words, waa 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 23 

somewhat remarkable for a child under three 
years of age. 

He was one day troublesome at dinner, 
when there was company, by asking for arti- 
cles which his mother deemed improper for 
him, and she sent him from the table to her 
room. A considerable time elapsed ere she 
went there, and then she found him in a pos- 
ture of meditation. She told him it was 
wrong for him to a.sk for what he knew was 
not allowed him, and especially thus to trouble 
her when she had guests who required her 
attention. He said : 

" Mother, why do n't you get somebody to 
kill little Isaac? " 

She waited in some surprise to see if he 
would explain himself. But he repeated the 
question with increased feeling. 

" Why do n't you get an angry man to come 
and kill little Isaac ? " 

She inquired what induced him to think of 
such a thing, and he answered : 

*' Because he treats you so bad." 



24 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

It seems that in solitude, the child had con- 
templated his misdemeanor as a sin against 
great goodness, until self-loathing came over 
him, and he imagined the heaviest doom did 
not transcend his deserts. Still, the love of 
his mother so pervaded his whole nature, that 
he would not have her gentleness distressed 
by inflicting the penalty, but an " angry man " 
was to be sought for, who could fulfill the 
requisitions of justice without a struggle. 



" Harry, was that a love-pat, to your 
maid ? " said a young mother. 

" No. It was a strike." 

" A striTie ! How is that ? " 

" I heard a battle-story told. I read some 
in a war-book too." 

" What has that to do with your slap to 
Jane ? " 

" Why, it niade me want to fight, Ma'am. 
And I thought likely the maid deserved to be 
striked. So, I striked her." 



SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 25 

A little girl lind often contemplated with 
deep attention, tlie lineaments of time, in 
an aged grandmother. Sometimes she had 
asked : 

" Grandmother ! why do you always w^ear 
such plaits in your foreliead? " supposing it 
a fashion produced by art, like the plaiting 
of the laundress. 

On another occasion, still more impressed 
with a wondering curiosity, she said : 

" Grandmother ! were you alive, when God 
made the world ? " 



The phrases and customs of fashionable 
life, perplex the simplicity of the little ones. 
When to their penchant for telling all, is 
added the solemn injunction of religious train- 
ing, to sjKciJc the truth, they are puzzled at dis- 
covering, that obedience to these promptings 
is sometimes to offend against politeness. 

"How are you, to-day?" said a fashion- 
ably dressed lady, at entering the parlor 
3 



26 SAYIXGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

wliere a very young cliild was seated alone, 
busily dressing her doll. Scarcely raising her 
eyes from tlie absorbing occupation, she 
answered : 

" Very well, ma'am, I thank you." 

" And now, why do n't you ask, how I am ? " 

" Because, I do n't want to know." 



The literary criticisms of children are some- 
times not despicable. An extemporaneous 
preacher of ability, relates one from which 
he derived advantage. His reputation for 
eloquence was increasing, and he was encoun- 
tering some unperceivcd dangers, which 
spring from the pleasure of fluency. 

He was on one occasion, induced to lecture 
in a large apartment of a private dwelling. 
It was densely crowded, and the uninterrupted 
attention flattered and quickened the zeal of 
the speaker. Almost at his feet, sate a very 
small boy, who never turned his eyes from 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 27 

the face of the orator. Perhaps, in his se- 
cret heart, was a joy of satisfaction, that he 
could thus fascinate both the simple and the 
wise. Suddenly, the lips of the child-critic 
were opened. 

*' Yo2i said that ofore.''^ 

Wholesome truth, though unpalatable. 
The fluent speaker remembered, and made 
good use of it. After the lapse of years he 
said, that many times when he had been 
tempted to remit laborious study, or logical 
arrangement, the echo of that little shrill 
voice, " You said tJuit aj'orc,''^ returned to him, 
bringing the patience of wisdom. 



A young colored child, belonging to a 
Sunday School class, was attentive to the in- 
structions of his teacher, and often asked 
questions of pertinence and ingenuity. On 
one occasion, the disobedience of Lot's wife, 
and her consequent punishment, had been a 
subject of conversation. 



28 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

" Was slie turned into a pillar of salt for 
looking beliind her?" 

On being again assured of tlie fact, he 
asked ■with great quickness : 

" Somebody elso must have looked behind, 
to see her a pillar of salt. What became of 
them ? " 



A little girl was discovered lying on the 
bed in her own room, passionately weeping. 
To the inquiry what caused her grief, she 
answered : 

" Oh dear ! I am so afraid I shall live till 
every body is dead that I love, and not a 
creature will be left to cry at ray funeral." 



An exceedingly bright little giJ, who was 
much enjoying the society of friends staying 
in the house with her, at leno-th made an ex- 
ception of a pleasing young lady, possessed 



SAYINGS OK rJlTI.E ONES. 29 

of vivacity in maimers and conversation. It 
seems that slio nusunderstood the wit passing 
between her father and tliis friend, and taking 
their jokes in earnest, supposed " Miss Isabel " 
to be incommoding or annoying her father, 
of whom she was extravagantly fond. " Miss 
Lizzie Bell," as she called her, became there- 
fore an object of scrutiny, and of express 
dislike. Being very truthful, she made no 
effort to disguise her sentiments. 

After the departure of this young lady, her 
mother receiving a letter from her, mentioned 
to the child, that she had sent her a message, 
and asked if she remembered her. Suddenly 
raising her head from something that occu- 
pied her, she said : 

" Yes, I do remember Miss Lizzie Bell," 
and then as if she thought even that admis- 
sion implied more than she wished to concede, 
added with the swiftness of lightning, " But 
you may tell her, when you write, tliat / do tit 
remcinhcr her I " She probably meant this to 
be synonymous with not sendir.g a remeni- 



30 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

brance of love, which her high integrity would 
not allow her to do unless she felt it. 



" ! how it rains," said a very young child. 
" The birds will be so wet. Eun and get 
umbrellas for them, little umbrellas, such as 
they can carry in their own paws." 

The fervor of the child was not more 
striking than the ludicrous idea, of the deni- 
zens of the air, passing on their trackless 
way, or seated upon their nests, amid their 
young, with small parasols over their heads 



A little girl was taken to visit a distant 
relative. She observed Avith wonder that 
there were no family prayers, or blessing 
supplicated on their repasts. She opened 
her eyes wide, and waited for these duties, 
and scarcely refrained from asking why the} 
were withheld. 



SAYINGS OF LITTI.E ONES. 31 

When she reached home, she said: 

*' Why did not Mr. pi'aj morning and 

evening, and at the table ? " 

The reply was, that they could not give an 
explanation, but that their friend who was an 
excellent man, might, perhaps, prefer to say 
his prayers in secret. 

" Ah !" said she, brightening, as if glad 
of any shadow of excuse, " like Nicodemus, 
he comes to Jesua by night." 



A very young and bright boy was ex- 
ceedingly delighted with a large book of 
Scripture prints. Many of them had been 
explained to him, and he, having a good mem- 
ory, though entirely unable to read, would 
repeat their explanations to the children who 
visited him, until his reputation for knowl- 
edge stood very high among them. On one 
such occasion, when he had quite a number 
of auditors, their researches were pushed 



33 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

somewliat beyond his own advances. The 
" Last Supper," by Leonarda da Vinci, be- 
came the subject of their inquiries. He was 
utterly at a loss, but being unwilling to con- 
fess there was any part of the volume of 
which he was not master, replied with as little 
hesitation as possible : 

"Why that — that — is, the Holy Gospel 
takino; tea." 



An affectionate little girl, after kissing her 
mother many times, said : 

" One more kiss. That last is for Jesus 
Give it to him, because he has given me such 
a dear, good mother." 



A very little girl who was troubled with 
lameness, had a small book of nursery rhymes 
given her, which she Avas amused by hearing 
read, when any one had time thus to attend 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 33 

to lier. One iiiglit she was very urgent to 
be taken out of lier own bed, and put into 
that of her parents, in whose chamber she 
slept. She pressed this point with more per- 
tinacity than was usual with her ; and after 
she had attained the coveted position, her 
father said : 

" You have done very wrong. Your mother 
will be disturbed, who has had much fatigue 
with your lame knee, and wishes to rest." 

Leaning her head upon her hands, and 
looking steadfastly in his face, with a mix- 
ture of seriousness and naivete, peculiarly 
comic, she said : 

"So, seeing they could boar no more. 
They kicked and thrust her from the door ; " 

two lines from the childish book above men- 
tioned, whose rhythm had adhered to her 
memory, and whose repetition at this time, 
amid the darkness of midnight, was singular 
and surprising. 



2* 



34 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A little girl, possessing mucli naivete, was 
sometimes considerably teased by a gentle- 
man who visited at the house, and kept iu 
action her smartness of repartee. One day, 
at taking leave, he said : 

" Good-by ; I do n't love you." 

" No. But you shall." 

*' Shall ? How is that ? " 

" Does not the Bible say we must love 
those who hate us ! I am sure I hate you." 



A precocious child was ambitious of keep- 
ing up with older classes at school, and was 
in some respects successful. During an exer- 
cise in orthography and definitions, the teacher 
said to her : 

" Spell the word ferment, tell its meaning, 
and place it accurately in some sentence or 
phrase." 

Taking pride in always answering without 
hesitation, she replied rapidly : 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 35 

" F-e-r-m-e-n-t ; ferment is to work ; I like 
to ferment in the garden." 



"I am sure, now, tliat I shall go to heaven/' 
said a bright young child to his mother. On 
asking the grounds of his assurance, he said : 

" Because I am so iwUtc. I make bows to 
people in the streets ; I say, ' yes, sir,' and 
' no, sir,' to the waiters at the table ; so I 
shall certainly go to heaven, I am so poUtey 

At the hotel, where he was then a resident, 
was a dog of doubtful amiability, who occa- 
sionally snapped at the heels of people in his 
vicinity. A passer-by was seen to raise his 
cane in reply to such a salutation, when the 
same beautiful boy, his fair curls flying iu 
the wind, rushed between, exclaiming with 
much decision ; 

"Don't you strike that dog! He ineans 
well!" 



36 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A little girl, vlio vas prone to be wearied 
ere the orisons that her nurse required of 
her, •were finished, once, at retiring, paused 
in the middle of her form, and said : 

" Come ! come ! let 'a stop now, and say, 

'Bandy legs, and crooked toes, 
Tripp'd up his heels, and fell on his nose : ' 

for it is far prettier." The rhythm pleased 
her ear, and made the words easy to repeat ; 
they were probably also more intelligible to 
her mind, than those which had been chosen 
as tho exponents of her devotion. 



Another little girl, who had great kindness 
of heart for all the animal creation, saw a 
hen preparing to gather her chickens under 
her sheltering wings, and shouted earnestly : 

" Oh ! do n't sit down on those beautiful 
little birds, you great, ugly, old rooster." 

Having unusually quick perceptions, she 
was accustomed, when almost an iafant, to 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 37 

call a cow, a " hoj'j^cr-grass,^^ from noticing 
its movements, among the thick, rich pastur- 
age where it fed. 

The same brilliant little being, on waking 
one morning, found laid by her side, a new- 
born sister. Eaisiug herself on her elbows, 
she contemplated the tiny stranger with in- 
tense curiosity. Her stock of language was 
small, being herself an iufant of two summers. 
At length : 

"My stars!" was the exclamation of her 
silvery voice j as if constrained by a tide of 
new emotion, to invoke the highest objects 
of which she had taken cognizance. I doubt 
whether the welcome of a babe to a still 
younger stranger, of whose propinquity she 
knew nothing, was ever expressed with more 
originality, or eloquence of eye and gesture. 



A boy of two and a half years old, was 
told by his mother that he might attend 



38 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

public worship with his nurse, if he would keep 
entirely still. He made the promise, and 
went, sitting as immovable as a statue. At 
the close of the services, when the audience 
dispersed, he testified no disposition to move. 
Being lifted on the seat for the adjustment 
of his apparel, he began to cry and moan, 
vociferating a desire for '■'•more meeting I more 
meeting!''^ Whether this predicated an incip- 
ient attachment for the exercises of religion, 
sufficiently strong to overcome the native 
aversion of infancy to constraint, remains yet 
to be ascertained. 



A young child was permitted to pay a visit 
to his grandfather. He knew that he was 
highly venerated for his talents and learning, 
and felt a proportionate ambition to make a 
favorable impression. Seating himself with 
great deliberation, in a high chair, he crossed 
his short legs, and taking one small foot in 
his hand, and holding his head slightly on one 



SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 39 

side, looked in tlic face of tlic lofty, dignified 
man, and said : 

*' What 's your opinion, sir, of tlie restora- 
tion of the Jews ? " 



A little boy of three, was thrown from his 
carriage as it was drawn rapidly through the 
garden, and had his arm hurt. The physi- 
cian of the family, being doubtful of the ex- 
tent of the injury, desired a surgeon to be 
called in consultation, whose close scrutiny 
caused additional pain. 

" Papa ! Who is that big doctor ? I do n't 
like him at all. He hurts your little boy 
very much indeed. Send him away," 

Finding his request could not be granted, 
he made a difterent appeal : 

" Big doctor ! What 's your name ? Can't 
you be gentle ? Oh dear ! How savage 
you are ! " 

He then besought sympathy, and address- 
ing the family around his bed, said : 



40 .SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES 

" Are yon sorry for me ? Are all of you 
sorry for Sandy ? " 

On being assnred they were, lie still re- 
joined, " Why do n't you cry then ? Can't 
you cry when Sandy is hurt ? Cry, every one 
of you. Cry loud." 



Little Paul came to spend an hour with his 
cousin Ellen. He was usually a good boy. 
But on this occasion a strang-e change came 
over him. Nothing pleased him ; and from 
dissatisfaction, he proceeded to cross words, 
and aggressive measures. He pulled the 
new doll from his cousin, and threw it angrily 
on the floor. He had even his hand raised 
to strike Ellen, when his aunt came in. 

" AVhat ! this can not be the good, little 
Paul, whom we are always so glad to see. 
Is it not some bad child, wearing his clothes, 
and calling himself by a wrong name ? " 

Quite crest-fallen, he desired to go home. 
He felt ashamed that every one should be 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 41 

glad that liis visit was over. Some time 
elapsed, ere he repeated it. Then he went 
directly to his aunt, and said with a very 
pleasant face : 

" Good Paul has come to see cousin Ellen. 
Do not say any more about the bad Paul. 
I am not acquainted ivith hhn.^^ 



A little boy three years old, of an observing 
and thoughtful mind, was listening to a lady 
who described the dress of another. In speak- 
ing of the flowers in her hat, she said they 
were as numerous as — , and being interrupted 
ere she could finish the comparison, was sur- 
prised to hear that gentle voice add quickly 
and interrogatively, "As many as in the Gar- 
den of Eden?" 

The same child, desirous to regard the sanc- 
tity of the Sabbath, but not having learned 
to avail himself of the use of books, selected 
quite a large one, and bringing it to his 

mother, said with great gravity : 
4* 



42 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

*' Is tills a perfectly suitable volume for 
Jolmny to read on Sunday ? " 



" We have the most 7-eligio2/s hens" said a 
little girl, " that ever you saw. They never 
drink the least bit of water, without looking 
up to the sky, between every swallow, I sup- 
pose to thank God. I am sure such hens 
are an example to us all." 



A little free Creole, having been brought 
to the United States by a kind lady who took 
charo-e of her, was in a state of wonderino- 
delight at some falling snow, which she had 
never before seen. Beneath the vernal skies, 
it was, however, of short duration. She 
seemed to regret its departure, and asking 
where it was, and being told it had melted 
before the sun, said : 

" Does the sun hate the snow that it drives 
it away ? " 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 43 

At some slii^ht cause of disquiet, she hid 
her face iu the lap of her patroness, and then 
running to a new doll which had been given 
her, covered its face with kisses, exclaiming : 

" This is my comfort. When I look at it, 
and take it to my heart, I am content." 

She inquired where the people went on Sun- 
day afternoon, and being told, " to church," 
exclaimed : 

" What ! twice to church on the same daj ? 
God loves the States better than He docs 
Cuba. They think more about Him here, and 
He thinks more about them." 

Her Spanish idiom, the naivete of her ges- 
ture, and the kindling expression of her 
black eyes, gave a variety and force to her 
words, which do not pervade them when nar- 
rated or written. They excited a wish that 
the children of that too much neglected race 
might more frequently enjoy the happiness 
of the fostering smile of kindness, and the 
blessinjrs of a rijrht education. 



44 SAYIXGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A cliild, while traveling witli liis parents, 
■was taken to Niagara. The glorious majesty 
of that world of waters impressed his unfold- 
ing imagination. While there, his birthday 
occurred. Some time after, lie was looking 
over an old geography, among whose cuts 
was one of Niagara. Clapping his hands in 
extasy he exclaimed : 

" See ! see ! there is my hirthday ! " 
The association of his anniversary with 
this magnificent work of the Creator, was 
auspicious, and may probably be as perma- 
nent as life. 



Poetical thoughts and forms of expression 
are sometimes noticed among the little ones, 
where there could have been neither prompt- 
ing nor example. A child Avho had resided 
on a farm, among working people, from her 
birth, was once asked, in crossing a field, 
what was the cause of a gulley that trav- 
ersed a portion of the grounds, and answered: 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 45 

" It is tlic path where the stream used to 
walk." 

Another, wlio had been accustomed to hear 
refined couA'ersation, said, on removincr from 
the sea-shore to a rural situation, that " she 
was sorry to lose the nuirniur of the waves." 

Lookino- at the stars as they came twink- 
ling one by one through the boughs of the 
trees, she exclaimed : 

" See, there are angels' fingers pointing 
to us." 



A child quite too young to read, was dis- 
covered crouching down among his playthings 
and holding a book to his ear, which, ever 
and anon, he soliloquized : 

"Are you a wise book? Tell me a story. 
Father wants me to be a wise boy. Make 
haste with what you 've got to say. I 'm in 
quite a hurry. Don't you see the horse that 
I draw round the floor is waitincr for me ? 

" Not a word yet ? Why do n't you speak ? 



46 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Whisper, straight, into my ear. I don't 
believe you do know so much, after all. 

"Go, stay there in the corner, till you can 
speak when you 're told. You 're just as un- 
like my mother as you can be. When I ask 
her to teach me any thing, she always does. 
I think you're a bad book, and I do n't 
believe you 're so wise as people say." 

So, his quarrel with literature ended, in a 
remarkably zealous application of his forces 
to tops and balls and the new toy-horse. 



"Dear nurse," said. a child, "has Satan 
any India-rubber? " 

"What do you ask such a queer question 
for?" 

" Why, the minister told us last Sunday, 
we must write God's words upon our hearts ; 
but if Satan can get any India-rubber, I am 
afraid he will rub them out ao-ain." 



SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 47 

"Does God make tlic new moon, mother?" 

" Yes, my cliild." 

" Well, when he makes a new moon, does 
not he cut up the old one to make stars of? " 

The astronomical theory of the dear little 
girl seemed to have an element of that thrifty 
economy which would fain sec nothing wasted. 



A boy walking through a wood, happened 
to bark like a dog, an accomplishment which 
he had taken pains to acquire, and was sur- 
prised to hear an answer in his own tones. 

" Doggy ! doggy ! " said he, and there was 
a quick reply of " doggy, doggy." 

" Who are you ? " called the boy. 

"Who are you?" was the response. To 
the clear voice of the questioner, he replied : 

" Why, George Thompson ! " and this was 
repeated more than once, in such a mocking 
manner that he grew angry, and exclaimed : 
^ " What a fool you are ! " 



48 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Hearing this reverberated, he ran home, 
much excited, and told his fatlier there was 
a bad boy in the "svood, shouting and calling 
him names. After the explanation that en- 
sued, he made a friend of the Echo, and 
used often to amuse himself and his compan- 
ions "with its powers. 



"Pa, why is it said that Massachusetts is 
the mother of us all V " 

" She was the oldest of the New England 
States ; and as they were mostly settled 
from, and grew out of her, she has been 
called, by a figure of speech, our Mother." 

Still pursuing the personification, the boy 
asked, with a kind of bewildered look : 

" Were Pennsylvania and Massachusetts 
married to each other in the old times ? " 

"What can you be thinking of? " 

"Why, Pa, I took it for granted that 
Pennsylvania was the father of all the States, 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 49 

for I see it on letters and in newspapers, and 
in books too, always called ' Pa.' " 



It is doubtful wliether we adequately re- 
alize the curious constrnctions of Scripture 
language which the childisli mind makes. 
Possibly we may remember some of our own 
early mistakes and mysteries. These were 
longer perpetuated in the days of yore than 
at present, when the dignified deportment of 
the old, and the reverence impressed on the 
young, checked freedom of inquiry, and when 
the familiar instruction of Sunday schools 
was unknown. 

A gentleman of intelligence and learning 
told me, that in his boyhood, he supposed 
the passage from Solomon, "The wicked 
flee when na man pursueth," referred to a 
troublesome insect, against which, he felt 
CA'ery system of extirpation fully sanctioned, 
after he believed it to be styled in that 
Holy Book, " the ivicked flea." 



50 SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 

An eloquent preacher of the gospel men- 
tioned, that among his early recollections, 
was, being taught to kneel quietly at family 
prayers, and hearing his excellent father 
sometimes implore, in the language of Scrip- 
ture, a blessing upon their "basket and their 
store." AYherenpon he mused much as to 
"what that petition sliould mean. He at 
length came to a conclusion, that the first- 
named article must iiulicate a capacious 
clothes-basket, which, from its great size, 
he regarded with reverence ; but as for the 
"5/!ore," he was entirely mystified, and forced 
into the belief that they must have a secret 
interest in some mercantile establishment, 
which, for wise reasons, was concealed from 
the children. 

During a college vacation, he chanced to 
mention to his mother this ludicrous misun- 
derstanding, when she informed him of an- 
other, that in her own infantine days had 
caused her much anxious apprehension. She 
heard her pious father implore earnestly 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 51 

at his devotions, that tliey might " all be 
made meet for the kingdom of heaven." In 
her meditations upon this petition, she unfor- 
tunately adopted a culinary illustration, and 
perceiving that a dish, of which she was 
fond, was minced very finely, and with great 
care, by the cook, before it was deemed fit 
for the table, conceived the idea that we were 
to be refined for a higher state of being, by 
a similar preparation. The more she watched 
the process, the more she revolted at it; and 
great self-abasement did she feel at her own 
wickedness, that she was not able sincerely 
to take part in the daily supplication of being 
made " otot^," according to her understanding 
of the matter, " for a world of blessedness." 



A bright little girl, to the common inquiry 
of all children, "What are we made of?" was 
told, in the words of the Bible, that "God 
made man out of the dust of the earth '* 



52 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Sliortly after, -while walking in a high wind, 
which lifted the pulverized soil in eddies, sho 
exclaimed: 

" See ! there is dust enough wasted to make 
several people." 



A class of young colored children attended 
punctually to religious instruction, which was 
given them by a kind lady, ere Sunday schools 
were known. She had been simplifying to 
their comprehension some passages from the 
Sermon on the Mount, and felt inclined to 
congratulate herself on her success. In the 
course of examination of what they had rec- 
ollected and understood, she said: 

"What is the meaning of 'Do not your 
alms to be seen of men?' " 

With great self-satisfaction tlit^v replied: 

"Guns, and bayoaets, and kiuves, and 
such like." 

The word "rtZms," by no very singular 
error, thay had construed to meAn wea])on3 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 5d 

of ■ft'ar; but the remainder of tlio passage 
they were puzzled to solvo. 



A very young child was in the room with 
his parents while they were discussing the 
choice of a name for his new-born brother. 
Ho drew near them, and listened with great 
attention. After several had been proposed, 
he was asked which he liked best. With a 
kind of contempt on his baby-brow, he ob- 
jected to them all, and added fervently: 

"Oh, call him the 'Prince of Peace.' 
Please, the Prince of Peace. That is a beau- 
tiful name." 

His choice was probably guided by hiiv- 
ing, on some occasion, heard that magnificent 
passage from the prophet Isaiah : 

" Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is 
given ; and his name shall be called Wonder- 
ful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Ever- 
lasting Father, the Prince of Peace." 



5* 



54 SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 

A lady was roused early in tlie morning, by 
the clear, earnest voice of lier youngest boy : 

"Mamma, is not it to-morrow, now?" 

"No, my child, this is to-day.''^ 

" Oh, but you said yesterday, if it was 
pleasant to-morrow, I might go out to play 
on the grounds. To-day is to-morrow. So 
please, mamma, get up and let me go." 



Two little girls conversed in low voices on 
various matters of childish policy ; among 
the rest, of tricks, and secrets in school. 

" For my part," said one, " when the girls 
get into any scrape, I think we are bound in 
honor not to tell." 

" What will you do when the teachers ask 
you?" 

"Oh, get off as you can; just in the best 
way you can, without telling outright lies." 

"When they question strictly, how can you 
escape without sacrificing the trutli?" 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 5o 

"Well, I do n't know. Tell just as few 
falselioods as will possibly answer." 

"Now, never tell one. If you do, you'll 
get yourself into great trouble." 

"Why, if wo don't save tlie girls, tliej 
won't save us." 

"You need not act so as to want to be 
saved. But if you do, and then add a lie to 
it, I reckon you only luake it ten times worse. 
First, there will come over your whole face 
such an awful, dark red. That is tlie lie 
telling itself out. It lian't got the sense to 
keep hid. And I reckon that red color comes 
from the best blood dropping out of the 
heart, and never getting back into it any 
more." 



"Grandmamma," said a little girl, "did 
you tell me that God made us out of dust?" 

" Yes, the Bible says so." 

" Has he got any more such kind of dust 
left?" 



56 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

"Why do you ask tliat? " 

"Because, grandmamma, if he has, I want 
very much that he should take some of it, 
and make mo a little brother to play with." 



The moon is prone to attract the atten- I 
tion and excite the imagination of young j 
children. A very little girl, on the arrival 
of a still younger one in the nursery, was ' 
advanced to the honor of sharing the cham- 
ber with an older sister. It happened that i 
the full moon cast abroad its rays with a 
breadth and brilliance which she had never 
before witnessed. 

" Oh ! what a mighty great candle," said 
she. 

She was told it was the moon which God j 
had made to give light to the earth. Still, I 
she seemed to adhere to her original thought, 
and called it : 

" God's sreat candle." ; 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 57 

Waking: in the ni<>'lit, and contrastino: 
tlio light streaming on all around, with the 
faint taper, or shaded lamp to which she 
had been accustomed in the nursery, she 
exclaimed : 

" Sister ! see ! see ! God has forgot to 
blow out his bis nio;ht-candle." 



Two little children were admirino* the 
stars, as they came forth on the summer sky. 

" What do you suppose they are," said 
one. 

" I tliink," said the other, " they are nice 
lamps, that have been good and gone to 
Heaven." 



"I want cook should give me her bird, 

and she will not," complained a little girl 

to her mother. She was told that she ought 

not to make such a request, for cook had 
3 



58 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

but a few tilings of her own, and it would 
be wrong to take away what she so much 
loved. 

Still, the child was troubled with an inor- 
dinate desire to possess the coveted treasure, 
and was overheard at night, saying in her 
prayer : 

" Oh, pray let me have a small piece of 
cook's bird. I would not wish to take it all 
away, because cook has but a very few 
thino-s of her own. But I'd be olad of 
the poorest and meanest part. I don't ask 
for the head or the win^s. I'd be content 
with only the tail. Oh, please put it in 
cook's heart to say that I may own a part 
of her bird." 



" Go over, and ask how old Mrs. Gay is this 
morning," said a lady to her son. She was 
surprised that he moved reluctantly, not 
perceiving that he misconstrued her instruc- 
tions. By laying a wrong stress on her 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 59 

collocation of words, he supposed himself di- 
rected to inquire how old their neighbor was, 
and having somewhere heard that it was not 
civil to ask a lady her age, yielded, but a 
lingering obedience. 

He entered the house of their friend with 
obvious embarrassment, and stayed a long- 
time, until every subject of common discourse y 
was exhausted. Then, as if with a great 
effort to summon courage, he sprang up and 
said, the color mantling in his cheek : 

" Mother sent me over to ask how old 
you are, ma'am." 

" Why, my dear, your mother knows as 
well as I do. It Avas only yesterday that I 
told her I was just seventy-six." 

The boy escaped homeward, and exclaimed 
with somewhat of an indignant feelino- : 

" Mother, Mrs. Gay says you knew how 
old she was, just as well before, as you do 
now. And I hope you will not send me 
on any more such awful errands to ask ladies 
their ai>e." 



60 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A faithful clergyman in the olden time, 
was accustomed to call Lis children and 
servants around him, on Sunday evenings, 
and question them respecting the sermons 
they had heard during the day, improving 
the opportunity by impressing on them any 
precept, or point of duty in which ho deemed 
them deficient. Oa one such occasion, while 
enlarging earnestly on the strict and sacred 
obligation of truth, which might never be 
dispensed with, he was amazed at the inquiry : 

"Pa, did not you tell a lie this morning, 
in the pulpit ?" 

"Why, what do you mean?" 

" Sir, you said., ' One word more, and I have 
done.^ Then, you went on and said a great 
many more words. So you did not keep your 
promise to the people." 

The astonished father felt on deliberation 
that the criticism, apparently so rude, was 
not destitute of foundation; when he was a 
second time accosted : 

" Pa, you said ^One ivord more and I have 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 61 

donc,^ and after preaclung a great while, did 
not get done then. For you said, you 
should take up the subject again another 
time. Sir, was not there two lies ? " 



" Harriette, come away from that hen- 
coop. Do n't you see you disturb the chickens, 
who want to go iu to their mother, for the 
night?" 

Not long after, the little girl was seen 
iu the same position, while the inmates of 
the coop flew out in great disorder. 

Her aunt calling her into the house, 
lectured her severely for her singular ob- 
stinacy and disobedience. 

As soon as she was able to speak for 
tears, she said : 

" I did not mean to do mischief. 1 only 
wanted to kiss the hen, and ask her to 
forgive me." 

After some questioning, she explained: 

" I did not intend to have told you how 




62 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

naughty I was. I took one of tliose pretty 
cliickens, and wanted to make a bird of it. 
The hen flew round and round, and screamed, 
but I held it tight in my apron. Then it 
was so f lightened, I let it go, and did not 
think much more about it. But when I saw 
the hen going to bed, and remembered how 
I had troubled her, and plagued one of her 
babies, I thought if I could just kiss her, and 
ask her forgiveness, she would sleep better, 
and so should I." 



An exceedingly bright little girl had 
become so much of a favorite with the | 
Principal of a Young Ladies' Seminary, that . 
she took her there, one afternoon, as a com- 
panion. She sate perfectly quiet, being in- 
terested in all the movements of the pupils, 
and listening gravely to their recitations, as i 
if she comprehended the sciences they were ] 
pursuing. ' 

When the exercises of the day were 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES 63 

dosed, tlio teacher, being in the habit 
of cnltivating' tlieir conscientiousness, and 
sense of lionor, inquired if tliey Lad care- 
fully kejjt all the established rules. The 
replies were various : some of satisfaction, 
others of regretful admission, or fuller con- 
fession. The almost infant visitant seemed, 
to expect the same scrutiny. At length, 
finding no interrogation addressed to her- 
self, she rose from her tiny chair, with an 
aspect of high self-gratulation, and said, 
in a clear, shrill tone, as if replying to a 
question: 

" Xo ma'am ! I han''t broke none of yonr 
rules, nor the ten commandments neither." 



Part Scconi. 



HIGH PRINCIPLES, 



SWEET SENTIMENTS AND AFFECTIONS. 



" Therefore we pray for them, when sunset brings , 
Rest to the joyous lieart and shining head ; 

When flowers are closed and birds fold up their wings, 
The watchful mothers pass each cradle-bed 
With hush'd, soft steps, and earnest eyes that shed 

Tears far more glad than smiling, yea ! all day 
We bless them, while, by guileless pleasure led, 

Their voices echo in their gleesome play. 

And their whole careless souls are making holiday." 

Mrs. Norton. 



PART II. 
HIGH TEINCIPLES, 

OR 

Inint lintimtnts ul ^UnihuB. 



The hour had come for retiring, and a 
sweet little girl was bidding good-night to 
the family, while her kind nurse stood wait- 
ing for her at the parlor-door. She climbed 
her father's knee to tell him how much she 
loved him, and gave many kisses to the baby. 
Her mother, as she embraced her, whis- 
pered : " You will not forget your prayers." ~i 

" no, mamma dear, I could not sleep 
without saying good-niglit to my kind Father 
in Heaven. I love to say good-night to 
God." 



A pair of twin sisters were so much alike, 
that it was difficult to distinojuish them. 



68 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Tlieir little hearts were also blended in the 
sweetest love. Dressed always alike, they 
might iisnally be seen, hand in hand; and 
wherever one was, you might be sure that 
the other could not be far away. 

When old enough to attend school, they 
sate side by side, studied from the same 
book, wrote the same copy, shaded with 
their pencils the same flower, warbled the 
same song, in the same key. They en- 
joyed the instructions of a very faithful 
teacher, who sometimes, to test the thorough 
preparation of her pupils, called them to 
recite separately. On such an occasion, one 
of the twins having neglected her lesson, 
mistook, and faltered. Tears started to her 
eyes, and the embarrassment of betraying 
ignorance, convulsed her with shame. Just 
at that crisis, the teacher was called out. 

The other sister, seated upon her bench, 
well-prepared with her lesson, sympathized 
in all tlie suffering of her second self. Her 
breast heaved, and her cheek was suffused 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 69 

with crimson. Springing to the side of the 
tried one, she forced her backward into her 
seat, with a ra^ndity that overcame resist- 
ance, and stood np in her place. The teacher 
returned, resumed her examination, and found 
every question answered promptly, and with 
perfect correctness. At first she was sur- 
prised, yet supposed a little interval had 
enabled the pupil, by reflection, to collect 
her thoughts, or possibly to review those 
points of the lesson in Avhich she was most 
deficient. But the expression of an appro- 
bation Avliich was not fairly earned, rankled 
in the consciences of these pure-minded 
sisters. They could not be happy, thus to 
deceive their teacher. 

Requesting to be permitted to stay after 
school, they approached her with tears, and 
confessed what they had done. 

*' I could not bear to see my poor sister in 
such pain," said the sweet one, who rescued 
her. *' Forgive us, we arc but 07ie,^ said their 
little voices, in unison. 



70 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

"God bless yon," said their kind precep- 
tress, " may you be one in Heaven." 



*< Please, cousin Pliilip, don't." But the 
wild, rude boy, was not ready to give over 
his cruel sport of chasing- and throwing 
sticks at a homeless kitten, who filled the 
air with melancholy mewing. Then the little 
advocate ran after him into the yard, and 
laying her soft hands on his cheek, patted it 
with a sister's fondness, and said : 

" Do n't, cousin Philip, dear. It '5 Go(Vs 
Kittyr 

The persecutor delisted. Then, after a 
few minutes thought, he took the poor, be- 
wildered animal, and laid it in his little 
cousin Clara's arms. When he saw it cling 
confidingly to her, and knew she would be 
kind to the frightened creature, he went on 
to school with a new satisfaction in his heart. 

Not long after, he saw a fine bird's nest in 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 71 

a tree, and climbed up to it. Just as lie was 
taking- the eggs, the mother robin flew round 
his head with mournful cries. "I suppose," 
thought he, "cousin Clara would say, 'that 
is God's robin.' What a strange little crea- 
ture she is." So, down he got, and left the 
nest untouched. And he fancied that he felt 
her soft hand patting his cheek, and sang 
aloud with happiness. 

Neither was this all the advantage that he 
derived from the gentle touch, and holy pre- 
cept of the child-teacher. For when he be- 
came a man, and was sometimes tempted to 
sternness, or hard dealing, methought there 
was a soft hand on his cheek, and a sweet 
whisper in his heart, " Do n't, cousin Philip. 
It 's God's creature." 



A second mother was introduced to her 
new home. Earnest desires to fill wisely this 
responsible station, especially as regarded 



72 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

tlie one little child committed to lier care, 
inspired her heart, and gave life to her 
prayers. He was an intelligent boy, full of 
thought, and love. He drew near to the new 
friend who sought his welfare, for there was 
none to sow prejudice in his innocent mind. 

She was once speaking to him of that 
happy world, where the good are gathered. 
He had been accustomed to hear it men- 
tioned as the home of his departed mother. 

"What will we do when we get wp there?" 
said the sweet disciple. *'I shall want to be 
with that ma some, and with you some." 

Then musing a moment, he seemed to find 
a happy thought as a solution of the diffi- 
culty, and asked with a radiant smile : 

" Cati't ice all sit close vj) together P^^ 



A fair little girl, of a gentle spirit, won 
the attention, or love, of all who saw her. 
A visitant who had taken her upon his knee, 



SATLNQS OP LITTLE ONES. 73 

told her of tho loneliness of liis home, where 
were no children to cheer him on his return; 
and appealing to her pity, asked if she would 
not go and live with him. Throwing back 
her clustering curls, and looking in his face, 
with a tender, serious expression, she replied: 

*' God gave me to this housc,''^ 

The original narrator* of this story, beau- 
tifully adds : " The tone was simple as the 
Avords, and the silvery voice was childhood's ; 
yet, for a moment, it seemed as if wafted 
from a far-off world, where only angels dwell. 
A sober brightness, as of something profound 
and holy, passed over the meditative mood 
of the dwellers in that house, and every 
heart in it swelled with gratitude for the 
great God's gift." 



"Oh! dear grandmother," said a little boy, 
as he kissed his new-born sister that lay in 
her arms, "I must never be naughty any 

* Tha Knickerbocker. 

7 



74 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

more, now we've got this baby. For yon 
know, if I am naughty, slie'll learn to be 
naughty of me, and that will be bad for 
mother." 

The good grandmother, perceiving the force 
of the argument, strove to deepen it in the 
child's mind. He gazed earnestly at the 
face of the babe, and wonderingly felt its 
tiny hands and feet, till its beauty and help- 
lessness seemed to call forth an overflowing 
tenderness. When his mother approached, 
he ran to meet her, and clasping his arms 
around her knees, exclaimed passionately : 

"Mother, mother, give me that baby for 
my own." 

Not immediately comprehending his state 
of feeling, she made some inquiries. But 
all the answer she could obtain, was the 
repetition : 

"Oh mother! say it shall be my baby! 
Will you give it to me for my own baby, 
always?" 
i Moved by his tears, she answered in the 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 75 

affirmative. Then a great happiness, and a 
singular sense of responsibility entered into 
liim. To watch over the child, seemed his 
business and pleasure. When he saw his 
mother so patient in nursing it, so attentive 
to its little ailments, he never failed to 
thank her for taJdng care of kis hahy. When 
any sudden willfulness of childhood came over 
him, he would check it, by saying, " Baby 
sees me. Baby hears me. It will not do." 

So, between his desire of being an edu- 
cator, and his heightened gratitude to his 
mother for her care over his child, a wonderful 
change came over the boy, who had formerly 
been quick-tempered and selfish, as if the 
strong brotherly love, coalescing with the 
grace of God, had given him a new heart, 
and power to lead a new life. 



A little girl had a jointed German doll 
given her, which could be made to cry. It 



76 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

strangely excited lier sympathizing love. All 
the day long she soothed and trained it, and 
insisted that it should go to rest on her arm, 
that she might comfort it, if it cried in the 
night. After she was in profound slumber, 
her mother removed it. 

With the earliest light, she awoke. Her 
treasure was gone. She did not bewail the 
loss, but taxed every power to repair it. She 
examined her bed, and pillows, and looked 
between every fold of the covering. Then, 
leaning her elbows on the balustrade of the 
crib, she scrutinized the apartment, like a 
mariner with his spy-glass. At length, on 
the mantel-piece, partly in the shadow of a 
projecting vase, she descried lier baby in its 
night-gown. Climbing out of her crib, upon 
the adjoining bed — over father and mother, 
for there was no other way — and groping on 
in the dimness, she drao-o-ed a hii^li chair as 
near as possible to the mantel-piece. Ascend- 
ing it, not without difiiculty, and stretch! ig to 
her utmost altitude, she possessed herself of 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 77 

the coveted jewel. Clasping it closely to 
her bosom, slio clambered carefully back. 

Then burst forth her gratulations of ma- 
ternal joy. I 

"You poor baby. You poor little baby. 
You Avas so cold and afraid, there all alone. 
Hug up close to your mamma. You're too 
young to say your prayers, arn't you? 
Mamma must pray for you." 

Then followed a series of petitions, that 
it might be a good baby through the day, 
love every body, and speak no naughty 
Avords. 

Sweet intercourse of infancy, with its mini- 
ature proteges! In it may be discovered the 
elements of future character, and the bud- 
dings of those affections which cheer life's 
most hallowed duties. It is not always that 
the studies or accomplishments of a more 
advanced period have so obvious a bearing 
upon woman's practical sphere. Perhaps they 
may sometimes lead the mind away from its 
plain import, into pursuits that will at last bo 
7* 



78 SAYIXGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

utterly discontinued, or vanities whicli liad. 
better be laid aside. 

But let not tlie mother disturb or despise 
tlie intercourse of lier little daughter with 
her doll. Those whisperings, and nurturings, 
and dressings, and undressings, and sweet 
soul-confidences, are not lost. Perchance, 
they may tell upon her matronly cares, and 
joys, as the discipline of this initiatory life 
may influence our own welfare in that which 
shall have no end. 



Two children conversed about their Sunday- 
school lessons, adding their own remarks and 
emendations. 

"I think," said one, "that Zacharias, the 
father of John, was deaf and dumb." 

"No," answered the other, "he was de- 
prived of speech, for a time, because of 
unbelief. So, he called for a writing-table, 
and wrote the name that was to be g-iven to 
liis son. What makes you suppose he was 
deaf, also ?" 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 79 

" Because he made signs,"'' was tlie quick 
rejoinder. 

A little boy of three, wlio was remarkable 
for attentively listening to the conversation 
of older persons, heard a guest of the family 
quote the line: 

"An honest man 's the noblest 'w^ork of God." 

Coming forward, as if he was moved bj 
duty to make an amendment of the poet's 
sentiment, he said: 

" Sir, my mother 's the noblest work of 
God, too." 

" How is that, my little fellow?" 

"I learned a commandment that said, 
* lienor ihj father, and thy mother. ' " 

"How could you learn, when you can not 
read?" 

"The words were read to me, out of God's 
book. He made the honest man, and the 
honest woman, too. One is just as noble as 
t'other." 



80 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES'. 

A mother, wliile endenvoring to instruct a 
very young daughter about the nature of the 
soul, desisted, fearing she might not interest 
her, or should possibly do harm. Soon after, 
she was happily convinced of having been 
more successful than she had anticipated. 

The little girl, talking with her favorite 
cat, was overheard to say : 

"Kitty, you like milk and so do I. .When 
you are tired you go to sleep, so do I. You 
talk in your way, so can I. You can cry, am) 
so can I. But in one thing we arc dift'ercnt: 
mamma says I have a soul. What does that 
mean? Why, I can smile, and you can not. 
So, kitty dear, the soul is a smiley 

The delighted mother, wishing still to 
guide the newly wakened thought, asked: 

"Do you smile when you are not happy?" 

"No, dearest mamma." 

"Are you ha2:>py when you are not good?" 

"Ah, no, mamma." 

"Then my little daughter must always 
try to remember, that her soul can not 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 81 

bo a smile, when slie is feelino; or doino; 
wrong." 

Tlio precept founded on this first abstract 
lesson, seemed to sink deep into the tender 
heart, and help to regulate it. 



A little boy sat by his mother. He looked 
long in the fire, and was silent. Then, as 
the deep thought passed away, his eye bright- 
ened, and he spoke: 

"Mother, I will be rich." 

"Why do you wish to be rich, my son?" 
And the child said, "Every one praises the 
rich. Every one asks after the rich. Tho 
stranger at our table yesterday, asked who 
was the richest man in the village. 

"At school there is a boy who does not 
love to learn. He can not well say his les- 
sons. Sometimes he speaks evil words. But 
the other children do not blame him, for they 
say he is a wealthy boy." 

Then the mother saw that her child was in 



82 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

dano-er of thinking: that wealth mio;ht stand 
in the place of goodness, or be an excuse for 
indolence, or caus^-trhem to be held in honor 
who lead evil lives. 

So she said, "What is it to be rich?" And 
he answered, "I do not know. Tell me what 
I must do to become, rich, that all may ask 
after me and praise me." 

The mother replied, "To become ricli, is to 
get money. For this you must wait until you 
are a man." Then the boy looked sorrow- 
ful, and said, "Is there not some other way 
of being rich, that I may begin now?" 

She answered, "The gain of money is not 
the only, nor the true wealth. Fires may 
burn it, the floods drown it, the winds sweep 
it away. Moth and rust waste it, and the 
robber makes it his prey. 

"Men are wearied with tlie toil of getting 
it, but they leave it behind at last. Thej 
die, and carry nothing away. The soul of 
the richest prince goeth forth like that of 
the wayside beggar, without a garment. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 83 

"There is another kind of riches, which 
is not ke})t in the purse, but in the heart. 
Tiiose Avho possess them are not always 
praised by men, but they have the praise of 
God." 

Then said the boy, "May I begin to gather 
tins kind of riches now, or must I Avait till I 
grow up, and am a man?" The mother laid 
her hand upon his little head, and said, " To- 
day, if ye will hear His voice — for he hath 
promised, those who seek early, shall find." 

And the child said earnestly, "Teach me 
how I may become rich before God." Then 
.she looked tenderly in his face, and said, 
" Kneel down, every night and morning, and 
ask that the love of the dear Saviour may 
dwell in your heart. Obey His word, and 
strive all the days of your life to be good, 
and to do good to all. So, if you are poor 
in this world, you shall be rich in faith, and 
an heir of the kino-dom of Heaven. 



84 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A boy had takeu great interest in hearing 
incidents read from the life of the ajDostle 
John. That he had leaned on the breast of 
Jesus at supper, and was called the "beloved 
disciple," were to him, themes of pleasant 
contemj)lation. To bo loved by the Saviour, 
seemed to him an unspeakable privilege, a 
source of delightful happiness. 

Being too young to read, some time 
elapsed ere he happened to listen to the pas- 
sage, " Then all the disciples forsook him 
and fled." 

"What, all the disciples?" said the child. 
"Did he whom Jesus loved, go?" 

Then, bursting into a passion of tears, he 
said, "Oh! why did John go? How could 
John go away ! " 

Nor was he easily comforted, for the fault 
of the character he had so much admired, 
nor able to understand how the dear Saviour, 
who had so loved this friend and follower^ 
could ever have been forsaken by him. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 85 

A poor boy, the son of pious parents, had 
not always a sufficiency of nutritious food. 
The occasionally feeble health of the father, 
obliged .him to curtail the hard labor by 
which a large family had been supported, 
and his aversion to incur debt, led him to 
reduce family expenses to the smallest pos- 
sible amount. The children were content 
with what their parents told them they could 
afford, though the change in the articles 
that formerly furnished their table, as well 
as in their apparel, was obvious. 

This little boy was once invited to go home 
to dinner with a school-fellow. He remarked 
with innate pleasure, several attractive dishes 
on the plentiful board. Exercise, and a sharp 
air, and the proverbial hungriness of school, 
had quickened his appetite. A bountiful 
piece of chicken, with mashed potatoes, and 
cranberry sauce, were laid upon his plate. 
He did not at once like those around, partake 
of it. He was requested not to wait. His 
companion at his side was eating heartily. 



86 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

At length the lady of the house inquired 
why he did not take his food : and he sobbed 
forth his reply, "Fo« have not blessed it! 
You have 7iot bless' d it!'''' 



A young child was once invited, while 
mahing a call, to take cake, and other luxu- 
ries, in which his mother did not indulge 
him at home. He refused all, though he had 
a strong appetite, and saw others partaking 
what he desired. At length some almonds 
were offered him, and he said, "My mother 
allows me to eat a few almonds." He was 
liberally supplied, and when about to enjoy 
them, suddenly stopped and said: 

" My mother did not tell me hoiv many I 
might eat;" and lest he should accidentally 
transcend her wishes, his perfect obedience 
moved him to carry them all home, and find- 
ing her absent, to keep them untouched till 
licr return. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 87 

A boy of three years old, dining at tlio 
house of a relative, without his parents, was 
presented with a fine peach. Though par- 
ticularly fond of that fruit, he steadfastly 
declined. Other tempting articles were of- 
fered him, all of which he refused, with tlie 
remark, "Mamma said I must not take any 
desert." Perceiving how firm was his prin- 
ciple of obedience, a gentleman who sate 
near him, remarked he had never before 
been tauo-ht such a lesson of self-denial. 

The same child, being afterward ill, ob- 
jected to some unpalatable medicine. But 
understanding that his mother desired him 
to take it, called to his nurse: 

"Brino' it to me, o-ive it to me: the Bible 
says I must honor my parents." 



A brother and sister were playing in the 
dinino;-room, when their mother set a basket 
of cakes on the tea-table, and went out. 



88 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

"How nice tliey look," said tlie boy» 
reaching to take one. His sister earnestly 
objected, and even drew back his hand, 
repeating that it was against their mother's 
direction. 

"She did not count them," said he. 

" But perhaps God did," answered the 
sister. So he withdrew from the tempta- 
tion, and sitting down, seemed to meditate. 

" You are right," replied he, looking at 
her with a cheerful, yet serious air: "God 
docs count. For the Bible says, that 'the 
hairs of our head are all numbered.' " 



Some little ones had received a number of 
holiday presents, and been made very happy 
by them. The succeeding day was the 
Sabbath, and their mother told them she 
hoped they would lay aside their toys, and 
cease to converse about them, on the day 
that God had chosen for his own, that they 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 89 

might gratefully worsliip him, who had been 
so good to them, lleadily they complied 
with her directions to put their objects of 
amusement out of sight ; but one of them 
said mournfully, as if feeling the infirmity of 
our nature, 

*'0h mother! T wish God had made us so 
that we need not think about our playthings." 



A little boy in the Isle of Wight, was 
deprived by severe sickness of the powers of 
speech and hearing. There were no institu- 
tions for education of the deaf and dumb, 
to which he could have access. But he had 
the blessing of a loving and pious mother, 
who daily devoted some time to his instruc- 
tion. She taught him to write, and early 
imbued his mind with deep reverence for that 
great and good Being, who could hear the 
thought that prayed silently in the heart of 
a speechless child. The simple faith that Ho 



90 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

was near, and would protect him, gave him 
sweet solace. 

One summer's daj, a violent thunder- 
storm arose, and from cliff to cliff of that 
wild, romantic region, the peals fearfully re- 
verberated. His sister was greatly alarmed, 
and at every vivid flash, threw her arms 
around him in terror. Knowing nothing of 
the uproar of the elements, he understood 
by her trembling, and tears, that she was 
greatly troubled, and running to get his 
little slate, wrote on it in a bold hand, and 
held it before her eyes, 

"Got? is everywhere.''^ 



Two little sisters had- been taught to play 
pleasantly together, and never to contend. 
Some associates came one afternoon to visit 
them, who had not learned the same lesson. 
There was ill-feeling about toys, and snatching, 
and loud, cross words. One of the sisters 



SAYINGS OF LITTI.K ONES. 91 

looked oil ill silent aniiizeinoiit. At- length 
her heart was moved, and she said with 
tenderness : 

" Oh, I heard nij mamma say, it was 
written in a book, 'Little children, love one 
another.'" 

Her sweet voice arrested the combatants. 
The warring elements were hushed. Tho 
little, earnest preacher had prevailed. 



A lady who had the charge of young 
persons not of kindred blood, became on 
one occasion perplexed with regard to her 
duty. She retired to her own room to medi- 
tate, and being grieved in spirit, laid her 
head upon a table and wept bitterly. She 
scarcely perceived her little daughter, seated 
quietly in the corner. Unable longer to 
bear the sight of her mother's distress, she 
stole softly to her side, and taking her hand 
in both of her own, said: 



92 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

"Mamma, once you taught me a pretty 
hymn : 

" ' If e'er you meet with trials. 
Or troubles on the way. 
Then cast your care on Jesus, 
And do ti'i forget to pray.' " 

The counsel of the little monitor was 
taken, and relief came. The mother waa 
repaid for rightly training her child, by hav- 
ing her become her own blessed teacher. 
*' Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, 
God hath ordained praise." 



A very little girl had been early taken to 
church, and tauglit to behave reverently 
there. She was told that public worship 
had been appointed by God, and that she 
must attend seriously to its several parts 
until she should be old enough to compre- 
hend them. So she would fix her eyes 
attentively on the preacher, and listen to 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 93 

all lie said, tliougli able to understand but 
little. 

Yet once a smile of joy was observed to 
pass over lier expressive face. Her eye 
grew bright, and her red lips parted, as if 
to speak. She had been repaid for her 
docile listening. In the midst of his dis- 
course, the minister had repeated the Sa- 
viour's invitation, "Sufi'er little children to 
come unto me, and forbid them not." 

She had learned this passage by heart in 
her lisping infancy ; but, in the voice of the 
clergyman whom she revered, it came to her 
with force and authority. It was like an 
old friend in a new garment, the shining 
garment of heaven. 

Hastening home to her mother, who had 
been detained by indisposition from the 
public services of the Sabbath, she threw 
her arms around her neck, exclaiming with 
great animation, "0 mamma, dear mamma, 
the minister preached the child's gosj^clJ*^ 



94 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

A very young child was crumbling a 
cracker at the table, when her father said: 

"Will you not save those pieces for somo 
poor girl, or boy?" 

She (j[uickly replied, "No, I'll give them 
something better, 

" 'a fair good slice 

Of bread and butter, large and nico ; ' " 

quoting from some little book which she had 
heard read. 

The same dear little girl, on being asked 
by her mother what was the best way to- 
make her obey, answered with the most 
beautiful and tender expression of face, 

"ioi-e /we." 



An intellectual and beautiful boy of three 
years, was pleased with no playthings but 
books. Other toys he put out of the way, 
sometimes destroyed. His fondness for books, 
seemed principally to arise from complacency 
in hearinor their contents. He was ever 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 95 

asking different members of the family to 
read to him. On liis mother, he especially 
depended for this great pleasure, and it was 
surprising to see how rapidly his infant mind 
expanded, and was nourished by the aliment 
it coveted. One day he urged her to read 
to him, when she was much occupied. After 
trying various winning arts, he addressed, 
what he considered an unconquerable ar- 
gument : 

"Godwin love you, if you read to Harry." 



Little Alice was seen picking up the loaves 
of a large rose, as it fell to pieces, and trying 
to put them together again. Frustrated in 
her attempts, she said, mournfully: 

" How much work it is to make but one 
flower. And there are so many, all over the 
land. I see the cows eat them. Blue vio- 
lets hang out of their mouths with the grass- 
stalks." 



96 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Then she asked her mother if the beasts 
did not thank God for the flowers, adding: 

"I guess the birds do, when they fly up 
BO high to the sky, and sing." 

That night, she was heard to say in her 
simple prayer, — 

" Thank you, dear God, for making the 
flowers, and putting them together, and 
tellino" them smell sweet to the beasts and 
the birds, as well as to U3." 



A child of delicate health, and imaginative 
temperament, enjoyed the constant care of an 
affectionate mother, he being her only one, 
and she, finding in domestic duties her chief 
delight. She was suddenly summoned from 
him, and his intense grief was gradually 
softened, by an impression that she was 
near him, though he saw her not. He con- 
tinued conscientiously to l-earn the little les- 
sons she chose for him, and to repeat the 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 97 

hymns that slie loved. A desiro for liia 
sweet mother's approbation was ever present 
with him. « 

"Will she be pleased if I do this or that?" 
was his frequent inquiry. 

Waking suddenly one morning, from long 
sleep, and dreams in which her image had 
predominated, he raised his hand above his 
head, while a rapturous smile lighted up his 
features, — 

" Her hand ! It is her hand! May I take 
hold of it ? Mtvj I take hold of itV 

So vivid was the belief that his departed 
mother stretched her hand visibly to him, 
that he imagined he had only to cla^p it, and 
be drawn by it into HeavVn, for which her 
pious teachings while on earth, had labored 
to fit him. Had his death soon followed, this 
circumstanee would have been numbered 
among premonitions. But years have passed, 
and he is still in health, while the uncom- 
monly abiding impression of the nearness 
and sympathy of his departed guide, served 
9 



yd SAYINGS OF LITXX.X. o.>^o. 

to perpetuate Iter j^recepts, and give a living 
force to her hallowed instructions. 



A happy group of three beautiful children, 
were playing in the fair grounds that sur- 
rounded their residence. They were full of 
love to each other, which by precept and 
example, had been taught them. It so 
happened, that the younger sister, on some 
unadjusted point of ownership — those rights 
of property which convulse older and wise 
people — spoke sharply to her brother, who 
was still younger than herself. The infant 
philosopher replied with a soothing tone : 

"Oh, don't speak so to Jamie, my dear 
little one. To me, you seem just like a good 
little rabbit." 

Some beautiful white rabbits were then 
their prevailing pets. The compliment con- 
veyed in this well-chosen comparison, and 
the sweet rendering of good for evil, changed 



8ATmaS OF LIT.TLE ONES. 99 

the momentary ire into good liumor and 
heia'htened aft'ectiou. 



I 

A little boy of only a year and a lialf, ' 

had his sympathies strongly developed by ' 

I 
tlio protracted illness of his mother. Some I 

of his first words, were inquiries into her I 

state of feeling. These were, of course, i 

imitations of such as he was accustomed to i 

hear; but his modifications of tone, were 

inexpressibly tender and touching. 

On entering her room in the morning, he 

would run with outstretched arms to her bed, 

and exclaim, with earnestness : 

^^Dcar Julia! iwultice on ? fed better? " 

At other times, he would inquire with , 

every feature of his baby face wrought into 

sadness, "feel sicJc?^^ Then throwing off the 

mournful sentiment, as if sun-light broke ! 

throuo-li his sotil, would add in haste, as if he ' 

O ! 

feared a different conclusion, "feel better ?^^ 
in the clear, ringing tones of joyous music. 



100 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Seldom are the tones and connteuaiice of 
sucli an infant, thus accordant with so mature 
a sympathy. 



A child of less than three years, "u-as pre- 
sented with a bird in a cao-e. But thoua^h 
an admirer of birds, he looked mournfully 
at the gift a few moments, and then crying, 
said: 

"Oh! let it go! let it go! let it flyback 
to its dear mamma." 

He welcomed, with satisfaction, a new-born 
brother, and testified no jealousy at the 
caresses lavished upon him. Afterward, a 
serious train of thought seemed to flow over 
his mind, and climbing into his father's arms, 
he inquired, " Would papa feel sorry, if 
Willie should die, now he has got another 
boy-baby?" 



A boy of two years old, was annoyed and 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 101 

perplexed by the beliraior of an untraiHcd, 
and not very amiable guest. Ho resorted to 
various expressions of displeasure. iVt length 
ho said, '•! will go, and tell my God." 

A night or two afterward, when his nurse, 
having put him to bed, and heard his prayers, 
was about to leave him, he suddenly called 
out: 

"Here! here! stop! come back! I have 
not thanked my God for making that visitor 
a little better boy, to-day." 



'il do not want to go to bed," said a very 
young child. His mother tenderly convinced 
him that it was proper for him to comply with 
her wishes. 

"But I do not like to go alone," was 
another argument. She assured him that 
he was not alone, for God, who watched over 
him, was ever near. He yielded to her 
reasoning, and pleasantly obeyed. 
9* 



102 SAYINGS OP LITTLE ONES. 

Some time after, in passing liis room, slie 
looked in at tlie open door. He was sitting 
up in his bed, with his eyes fixed upon the 
opposite wall, over which a passing light had 
strongly flashed, and asked in an excited 
voice, — 

"Where does He live? Where is God's 
house? I saw something very bright, wag- 
gling across the wall, just there. Was not 
that He who watches over me?" 



A colored boy ran away from a family 
where he was indented. They were attached 
to him, and conversed often about him, but 
decided to take no measures to regain 
him. Ere long, they received information of 
his earnest desire to return. Still, it was 
thought best not to send for him. To all 
these discussions, tlio youngest child of the 
hon.se was observed to listen closely, and 
with a troubled brow. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 103 

One evening, after lie had retired, lie was 
told that the wanderer had retarned, made 
acknowledgments, and been freely forgiven. 
He burst into tears. 

"I knew it would be so. I knew it would 
be so. For every night, when the dark 
began to come, and every morning, when I 
first saw any light, I prayed that poor, black 
Sam, might come home again. And now, 
the lost is found." 



The little son of a poor day-laborer be- 
came, through casualty, irrecoverably lame. 
His small bed was placed near the open 
window, in summer, that passing objects 
might assist in occupying his attention, or 
minister to his amusement. 

A large, coarse boy, who often went that 
way, seemed moved with spite or coii'tempt 
for the child always lying there : and looking 
in, made the most hideous grimaces to dis- 
turb him. The meek sufferer was greatly 



104 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

troubled, and mused much on the hatred of 
the stranger ; and if it would he possible, to 
change it into love. All that he knew of 
him, was, that his name was Tom. 

A kind lady once sent the crippled child, a 
toy horse, with a soldier upon it, and a large, 
red apple. He kissed the horse, and the 
soldier, and the red apple, and poured out 
many grateful thanks, to the benevolent lady 
who had thus remembered him. The fruit was 
to him a rarity. Nevertheless, ho watched for 
the cruel-hearted boy, and as soon as he saw 
him, said, "Tom, please to come here. I 
have an apple for you." 

Tom took it with surprise, and some embar- 
rassment. As he passed onward, conscience 
stirred in him, and he felt uneasy. " I get 
more such things than he does," thought he. 
"I will carry it back to him." 

"Here, lame boy, here is your apple. I 
don't want to take it from you." 

" 0, please, please, Tom, do keep, and eat 
it. Only just, don't hate me." 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 105 

So the poor, lame boy had comfort in his 
lonely bed, in thinking of the gift, and of the 
pleasure Tom would have with the fine fruit. 
And he wondered if he would hate him as 
before, and make those terrible faces at the 
open window, that had haunted his dreams. 

One morning, Tom called out to him, 
"Lame boy, I know how to catch birds. I 
will put one in a cage, and give it to you. 
It will sing, and please you, won't it ?" 

"0, thank you, thank you, Tom, how good 
you are to me. Only, don't bring me any 
birds in a cao-e. Please do n't. I know how 
hard it is to be shut up, and Hever go out. 
But I'm used to it, and the bird aiut used to 
it. So, it would be a great deal worse for 
him, than for me. He'd pine for the fields 
and woods, and his own nest. And I should 
not be happy, to see him in such trouble. 
Please, good Tom, don't catch any birds 
for me." 

Yet ho was so delighted, to think Tom 
spoke pleasantly to him, and did not hate 



106 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

him, that he wept for joy. The little seed 
of love, sown in that apparently stony heart, 
had taken root. 

Not long after, Tom appeared, and placed 
in his ■window a box of rich mold, in which 
was a rose, full of buds, with one partly 
blown. " Take this," said he. " It has got 
a good root, and will grow, and not worry you 
like a moanino- bird. I set it out, and nursed 
it for you, because I thought it would smell 
sweet, and please you." 

"Oh, bless you, Tom, for your beautiful 
rose, and for not hating me." 

And into the heart of the meek child, 
came the joy of him who has conquered 
enmity by love. Even in the eyes of the 
coarse boy were tears — strange tears — for he 
had never been so happy before. He had, 
learned a lesson which none had ever taken 
the pains to teach him, save the poor, little 
cripple, whom he had despised — that "love is 
of Heaven; and he who dwelleth in love, 
dwelleth in God." 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 107 

A little child knelt by his bed to pray, as 
he retired to sleep for the night. 

"Dear, Heavenly Father, please don't let 
the large cow hook me, nor the horse kick 
nie; and don't let me run away outside of 
the gate, when mother tells me not." 

The sense of helplessness, and perfect 
trust of the tender spirit, in a Being able 
to preserve from danger and disobedience, 
showed the true seeds of piety germinating, 
and ready to put forth the first, fresh 
blossoms. 



"William, I won't have any more garden," 
said Maria, bursting mto tears, when the 
frost killed her last flower. " Won't you 
let me have a part in your bird, for that lives 
in the winter?" 

Spring came, and the bird lay lifeless in 
its cage. Then William said, weeping, "I 
will have no more birds. For as soon as I 
love them, they die." 



108 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

The gentle mother saw their grief, and 
said: "Precious children, there is a country 
where the blossoms fade not, and sweet song 
never ceases. There is no winter there, no 
tears, for what is loved, cannot die. Let us 
seek that land together. Jesus will show us 
the way." 

They never forgot her Avords: and when 
she was in her grave, and they had grown 
old, they said to each other, as they met and 
parted: 

^^ Hath Jesus shown you the way? " 



Part ®l)ir&. 



p» I K T Y : 

OR 

WOEDS PEECEDING DEATH. 



"I give thee back to God, — the God who gave thee 
A well-spring of dfep gladness to my heart I 

All precious as thou art, 
Aud pure as dew of Ilcrmon. He shall have theo 
My own, my beautiful, my undeBled, 
Yes, thou slialt be Ilis child." 

Mrs. Uemani. 



10 



PART III. 
PIETY, 

OR 

lUnrilH i|c^rH riling Dcatlj. 



A CHILD of many prayers, was early en- 
courag-ecl to express his desires to God, in his 
own simple language. Sick or suffering ani- 
mals, shared in his petitions. "Please, God, 
make my rabbit well," was one of his tender 
requests. He felt great pity for a cripple, 
who came to the house, and at night suppli- 
cated his Father in heaven, for " the poor, 
old man, with only but one leg." 

A touching faith mino-led with his heart's 
orisons. Being once in pain, he rose from 
his bed, and kneeled by that of his mother, 
beseeching God to relieve him. Immediately 
after, ho reached to her his little hand, say- 
ing, "feel puls-e; — better now." 



112 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Once, during the absence of his father, 
she requested a visitant to lead in the devo- 
tions of the family, when the child, seated 
in his little chair, looked up, and repeated 
Avith solemnity : 

'^Approach, my sonl, the mercy-seat. 

Where Jesus answers prayer, 
And humbly fall before his feet. 

For none can perish there." 

At the age of four, he was smitten with 
fatal sickness. His sufferings were great, 
but his expressions of affection for tho-se he 
loved, and of gratitude to all who rendered 
him any service, were sweet, and constant. 
To the question, if he would like to go to 
his Saviour, he ever replied in the affirmative. 

When the dimness of death settled upon 
his beautiful eyes, he exclaimed: 

"Bi'ing a light! I cannot see my sweet 
mamma." 

Beaching his hand after her, it rested 
upon her face, which was bent over his 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 113 

pillow. Hitherto, lie had mailo many affect- 
ing- appeals, in his pain. 

"Help me! Can't any of you help me?" 
Now, that solicitude was past. The wishful 
look faded into an admiring and solemn 
wonder, and he said with a beaming- coun- 
tenance: 

"I love God. How beautiful it looks up 
there ! " 

Sweet, and glorious parting words ! never 
to be forgotten by those who heard them. 

Once more ho spoke to his mother: 

" Sing to me, what you sing in church." 

And as she controlled her grief, that she 
might lull his death-pangs with the hymn 
he loved, ho fondly laid his lamb-like head 
upon her shoulder, and murmured his last, 
low tones, 

"Come, mamma, let us go to sleep." ^ 

And he slept in Jesus. 



10* 



114 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

Death came for a fair, little one. He 
struggled with pain, and tlieu grew still. 
He noticed little that passed around him, 
and his lisping voice seemed hushed forever. 
At length, opening his large eyes for the 
last time, and probably receiving no light, 
he said, in the sweetest cadence : 

" Good-night, mother ! " 

Once more — when pulsation had ceased, 
and it would seem as if the pure spirit were 
gone — there was a faint murmur, scarcely 
stirring the white lips : 

"Mother! mother! good-night." 

Will not their next greeting be, the "good- 
morning" of Heaven? 



A little one, just beginning to lisp, had 
been taught to say, "God will take care of 
baby." It was the only phrase of any length 
that he knew. Sweetly the hallowed words 
dwelt upon those innocent lips. 



SAYINGS OK LITTLE ONES. 115 

Both parents were seized with a malignani 
epidemic, and ere their convalescence, the 
little one was attacked. Intollio-ence was 
continually brought to their bed-sides, of 
the state of the sufferer. Suddenly the 
fearful tidings came that she was death- 
struck. Feeble and ao-onizino- the father 
and mother were brought in their beds, and 
laid down by their darling. Faintly she 
unclosed her beautiful eyes, and whispered, 
with an ethereal smile, 

*^God will take care of baby.''^ 



Little Thomas did not at first love his 
infant brother. He saw him in his mother's 
arms, where he himself wished to be, and 
was troubled. He observed the attentions 
of others, to which he had been accustomed, 
diverted to this new object, and felt like an 
outcast. 

When the infant began to reach after hig 



IIG SAYINa.3 OP LITTLE ONES. 

favorite toys, there came a new trial. 
They were his own property. He had 
always had them to himself. He did not 
like to have them hart or broken. His 
selfishness took various forms, and made him 
unhappy. 

His mother observed the sadness, and 
strove to soothe him. She did not like to 
deal harshly with him, lest it should fix his 
dislike against the innocent creature, who 
■was in his view, an usurper. The course most 
proper to pursue, was to her a subject of 
deep thought and prayer. 

One day she was with him in his father's 
study, and knowing his fondness for pictures, 
opened a large book which contained illustra- 
tions of the human frame. She showed him 
the bones and muscles, with their use, and 
the beautiful mechanism of the joints, and 
the veins conveying life-blood from the 
heart, to the extremest and minutest points. * 
As his wonder and admiration grew, she told 
him that God had given his infant brother, 



SAYIXaS OF LITTLE OXES. 117 

though SO small, all these curious and beau- 
tiful parts. 

After this, he seemed to regard the child 
with reverence. He was careful of his com- 
fort, and feared that any one should hurt the 
"great work of God in the baby." His 
dislike faded away, and a tide of new senti- 
ments took possession of his mind. They 
seemed to have almost a converting influence 
upon his character. His selfishness vanished, 
and the little treasures that he most valued 
and hoarded, were poured out to the infant 
whom he had once regarded with jealousy. 
He was delighted to win its smiles, and in its 
slightest indisposition, watch over it as with 
a mother's care. Looking at its tiny haa(_U 
and limbs, he would say, gravely, " God's 
work! God's great work!" and the love of 
God and of his brother, grew up side by side 
in his heart. 

He had not been a remarkably impulsive 
boy, but seemed suddenly to improve in the 
expression of liis affjctions. He would 



113 SAYIXGS OP LITTLE OXES. 

sometimes tlirowliis arms earnestly around liis 
mother, wlien lie found himself alone with her, 
and tell her how much he loved her. "And 
now, how glad I am, about this dear little 
brother, because when I die, you will not be 
alone, but have another boy to comfort you." 

Mournfully she recalled this remark, when 
lie became suddenly feverish, and ill. Covered 
carefully in his bed, he said: 

"Mather! I do not love to have the trees 
blow me so." Then she discovered he was 
in a violent ajxue. A nialiomant fever, fraucfht 
with great sutfering, was the messenger that 
removed him. The voice of his parents, and 
the coveted draught of cold water, were his 
chief comforts. 

When he was last raised up on his pillow, 
lie sino-led out his mother with a lovino: 
glance, and said, in the most gentle tone, 
"Please, give me once more the fresh, cool 
water." It was perceived that his sight had 
failed him. But he again spoke in the same 
tender, tuneful voice: 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 119 

f "I wisli to go above the stars. Let me 
go now." 



The beautiful daughter of a clergyman, 
among the Green mountains, when about five 
years old, was delighted at the birth of a 
baby-sister. In the fullness of the new 
affection, she desired to give it her own 
name. The desire seemed to amount to a 
passion. 

"O, name her after me! name her after 
me!" 

To the reasoning of her parents, she rC" 
peatedly replied : 

"I shan't want my own name." 

She was grieved at the refusal, but at 
length coincided in a substitute, about whose 
choice she was consulted. On the day ap- 
pointed for the baptism, she was taken so 
violently ill, that the rite was deferred 
Scarcely a fortnight had elapsed from the 
day in which she made the singular assertion, 



120 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

— that "s/ic should not vmnt her own name,^^—— 
ere she departed to receive a new namCj 
which as yet we know not. 

It was on the 3d of August, 1806, 
surrounded by the gdories of summer, that 
this lovely heart-flower faded. In the faint- 
ness and languor of death, she suddenly spoke 
with a clear, glad voice : 

" Oh, see, up there, those little children — those 
g-oot? little children. I see them. I see them.'''' 
And so, she joined the angel throng. The 
mourning father baptized the cherished infant 
by its selected name of Henrietta, to which, 
witli gushing tears, was added that of Anna 
Lorraine, so prophetically tendered and pos- 
sessed by the engaging child who was no 
longer his own, having risen to the family 
who die no more. Permit me to add, that 
she who bore that sacred name, afterward, 
as a missionary of the cross iw Constantinople, 
served faithfully the cause of that Eedeemer, 
whom, in life's blossoming season, she had 
chosen as her patron. 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 121 

On tlie 14th of Novembei', 1850, in the 
island of Rhodes, wliither slie had gone with 
her husband and five little daughters for 
temporary renovation, Henrietta Anna Lor- 
raine Hamlin breathed her last. It was a 
touching circumstance of resemblance to the 
sweet sister whose name she bore, that her 
death-chamber should have been radiant 
with cherubic forms, and that her last words 
on earth should be their recoo-nition. She 

o 

compared them to a fair, little one of her 
own, and said to her husband, who alone 
watched her dying pillow, 

"The room is full of them." 

Near the proudly rolling Bosphorus, by the 
side of the sweet missionary's friend, Mary 
Van Lennep, she rests. On the tablet that 
points out her grave to the musing traveler, 
are the hallowed words that, during a wasting 
illness, so often fell from her lips, "Peace, — 
perfect peace." 

A touching and eloquent memorial of her 

life and death, from which the above facts 
11 



122 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

are derived, is from the pen of the authoress 
of the "Broken Bud," and entitled, "Light, 
on the Dark River.'' 



The only child of pious parents, seemed 
wasting away with a painful, organic disease. 
Night and day, their agonizing prayer arose 
for his life. One evening he sat in the lap 
of his father, for a few moments, while his 
couch was prepared for the night. The weak, 
wasted arm, encircled the neck of the pitying 
parent, and the pale cheek rested upon his 
bosom. 

A draught of medicine was brought to the 
sufferer. He objected. 

"You must take it, my son." 

"Why, dear father?" 

"Because the doctor hopes it will make 
you better." 

"Father! did not God make me sick?" 

" Tea, God ordereth all things." 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 123 

**If it is God's will ttat I should be sick, 
wliy do you, and the doctor, .contradict his 
will? Does not the Bible say, 'who art 
thou, that repliest against God?'" 

A few affectionate words convinced the 
boy, of the duty of taking every measure to 
preserve the gift of life, which God has 
intrusted to our keeping, and he meekly took 
the bitter remedy that had been prescribed. 



Two little ones iia the same neighborhood, 
a boy and a girlj had been permitted often to 
meet, and play together. In fine weather, 
they rambled in the garden, and at other 
times, built houses with blocks, or looked at 
the pictures in books, being too young to 
read. They were always happy together, 
and their voices to each other, were sweet as 
those of turtle-doves. 

Suddenly, the boy sickened, and died. 
The little girl was told that her companion 



124 SAYIXOS OF LITTLE OXES, 



was dead; but having never seen death, the 
word had to her ear, an imperfect import. 
She was led to his house, where he still lay 
upon his little bed. Paleness, and silence, 
and the sadness of those around, fell like ice 
upon her spirit. Ten or twelve persons were 
in the room, but not regarding them, she 
said to her mother with a tremulous voice : 
"Please let me pray for poor Willie." 
Kneeling by his side, and raising her sweet 
face heavenward, with clasped hands, she 
repeated the Lord's Prayer. And as the 
subdued light through the curtained window, 
fell upon that beautiful, uplifted brow, so 
marked with pity and piety, and the earnest, 
bird-like tones supplicated " our Father who 
art in Heaven," methought their melody 
could never be forgotten, and that hovering 
ano'els loved the child. 



After Emilv. the widow of the late Rev. Dr. 



SAYINGS OF LIITI.K ONES. 125 

Judson liad left Calcutta, on her voyage to 
America, a sense of bereavement and desola- 
tion came over her affectionate heart, which 
it was impossible wholly to repel. Seated in 
the cabin, amid the tumult of the dark, 
rolling waves, she yielded to a full overflow 
of tears, which she sup2)osed none witnessed 
but God. 

All at once, she heard in soft tones : 
"'Though I take the wino-s of the mornino-, 
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy 
right hand shall hold mo.' Is that true, 
mamma?" 

It was the litttle son of her departed 
husband — six years old — who thus pointed 
her spirit to the source of all consolation : 
that spirit, which, since these lines were first 
written, has arisen where it shall sorrow no 
more. 



A very young child was taken to the 
11* 



126 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

funeral obsequies of a neig-hboring cliild. 
He had never seen the work of death, and 
looked long and earnestly at the beautiful in- 
fant, lying like polished marble, in its dark 
coffin. At his return, his mother placed him 
by the window, that he might see the pro- 
cession pass. He regarded it with fixed 
attention. At length he turned to his 
mother, his face beaming with animation, and 
said: 

"Oh! how beautiful it will be when the 
Saviour says, ' Baby, come forth.'' " 

It is probable, that in those readings of 
Scripture that accompanied the devotions of 
a pious household, he had listened to the 
recital of the Kedeeraer calling Lazarus 
from the grave, and had thus made a happy 
application of the sublime doctrine of the 
resurrection. Who can say how early the 
minds of our little ones may gather the dew- 
drops of divine truth, and be made wise unto 
salvation ? 



SAYINGS OV LITTLE ONES. 127 

A very young child was fond of bciiio- 
taken out to look at the stars. She admired 
their brilliance, and inquired much about 
Him who made them. She seemed to love 
his goodness, and wished to know the extent 
of his power. 

"That good man up in the sky. Can he 
make me sick? Can he make me well? Can 
he make me die?" 

She was filled with a desire that those 
around her should do right. When she 
kissed her father, as he went away \n the 
morning to his business, she would some- 
times say: 

"Now, be a good boy till I see you again." 

At the age of three, she was seized with 
malignant scarlet fever. Being in great pain, 
she exclaimed: 

" Tell my good man in the sky, that I am 
sick. Oh ! call to him that made the stars. 
Quick! — Quick! — Ask him, that little Jose- 
phine may be well again." 

During her father's prayer, she was still 



128 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

and attentive, sometimes responding- earnestly. 
After that, she spoke but little. Oace 
she said to her mother : 

" I shall be put in the coffin. TVeej) 
not.'''' And so she died, at the age of 
three years and four months. 



A child, who was master of but few 
words, seemed early to have been tauglit by 
the Spirit of God. He was the victim of a 
violent fever, that soon finished its fatal 
work. The last few hours of life, he fre- 
quently repeated, "Come, children, come." 
His little brothers and sisters gathered around 
his bedside, but he still said "come." 

"They are here," said his mother. "What 
do you wish of them, dearest?" 

Then his tiny finger, trembling in weak- 
ness, pointed upward; "Come! come to 
Heaven." 

One brother was absent at school, in a 
distant town. Him he did not comprehend 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 129 

i 

in t,he same form of words, but said, " Tell 
Willie, eorno." 

The last sound of tliat sweet, faint voice, 
was, " Father, mother, come ! come ! " 

Then the quivering lips were still, and the 
last pulsation ceased, of that loving heart, 
whose strong desire in death was, that the 
dear home-circle, might gather unbroken, 
where it should be divided no more. 

Holy spirit of love, "out of the mouths 
of babes and sucklings," God hath perfected 
thee. 



The young family of a clergyman at the 
south, were accustomed to repeat a passage 
from the Bible, every morning, before prayers 
On one such occasion, little Charlie, a beau 
tiful boy of four years, shaking back his 
rich curls, and looking up with a - clear, 
trustful eye, said, when his turn came, " ' I 
laid me down, and slept.'" 

"That is a beautiful verse," said his 



130 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

mother, adding the remaining clause, "'I 
awaked, for the Lord sustained me.' " 

"JSTo, mamma, only this, just this, 'J laid 
me down and slept.'' That is all I want." 

That night, fever smote the child. Toss- 
ings and delirium attended its brief work. 
The parents saw that thej were summoned 
to part with him, and feared, lest the last 
struo-ffles should be ao-onizina;. But a sweet 
slumber came over him, and in that his 
little life passed away. When they beheld 
the peaceful smile upon his lovely brow, 
they remembered his last words of health, 
*'*! laid me down and slept;'" and believ- 
ing that he slept in Jesus, comforted them- 
selves with the joy that awaited him, when 
the words he spoke not on earth, should 
be uttered in Heaven. "I awake: the 
Lord hath sustained me." 



A poor woman entered the parlor of a 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE OJTES. 131 

lady for whom she had sometimes worked. 
She led by the hand a little boy, poorly clad, 
and of a sad countenance. To the questions 
addressed to her, she mournfully replied: 

"He is my child. His father has been 
dead since he was a baby. Six months 
since, I married again. He seems not to 
be welcome to his new father. It grows 
worse and worse. Sometimes ho goes hungry, 
and. sometimes he is badly beaten." 

Then weeping, she added, "I cannot deny 
that my husband, now and then, drinks too 
much. Then it is bad for us both, but 
worst of all for the poor boy. When I go 
out to work, I cannot leave him at home, for 
fear he might be killed while I am gone. 
The people who hire me, do not like me to 
bring a child with me. Oh, dear madam, 
will you not let him live with you? Take 
him, I pray, and do what you Avill with him, 
for our misery is great. I feel that I cannot 
live long, and my only fear of death is, that 
I must leave him alone to suffer. Oh lady! 



132 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

lady ! you, wliose two sweet children are in 
the grave, have jDity uiDon us." 

And as the boy looked timidly up, there 
was a lai'o-e, round tear in each blue eye, 
like a dew-drop upon a violet. The heart of 
the bereaved one yearned over him ; and 
she bade the poor mother bring him again 
to-morrow. That night, she consulted her 
husband, and he said, '' Do as thou wilt in 
this matter, for the Lord is with thee." 

The next morning, the sad pair presented 
themselves. The lady took the child by 
the hand, and said, "I will be a mother 
to him. So help me, God." The poor 
woman fell on her knees, and praised tlio 
Lord, saying, that now she was ready to die 
in peace. 

The boy was overjoyed to find that a bath, 
and a suit of neat clothes, and a comfortable 
meal awaited him. Still more oppressed was 
he with wonder, when the gentleman came 
home, and he was told he might call him 
father. He bowed himself low, as he uttered 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 133 

the word, and turning to his kind benefac- 
tress, whispered; 

"He will not beat me, when he gets back 
to-night, will he?" 

When he was led at retiring, to alittle cham- 
ber, and a nicer bed, than, perhaps, he had 
ever before seen, he kneeled beside it, as his 
poor mother had taught him, and murmured, — 

"What shall I say? Oh, what shall I say? 
My old prayers won't do." 

So filled was he with amazement and grati- 
tude, that his few words were in sobs : 

"Oh, good Lord! good Lord! Take caro 
of poor mother, and don't ever let me go 
back any more." 

His zeal to serve and please those who 
80 nobly sheltered him, knew no bounds. 
"What shall I do for you, my lady — mother, 
I mean. Please let me do something." 

His earnest application in learning to read, 
and committing verses and hymns, created 
some anxiety, lest his health should suffer. 
His iudicious foster-tiifbthof devised modes 



134 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

of exercise and light labor for liim, and 
■w'islied to allure liim to athletic plays; but 
he never seemed so happy as when near her 
side. 

On one occasion, as he returned from an 
errand she had given him, he ran in with 
unwonted speed, exclaiming: 

'• Oh ma'am, ma'am — dear mother, I mean 
— I have seen a poor, little boy, whose father 
drinks. Do take him to live with you. He 
shall have half my bread and my bed. I will 
give him all my toys, and cakes, when I get 
them, for I know he never has any. Oh 
please, please say yes. Then lowering his 
voice to a whisper, and with a most imploring 
face, he added: 

" You can't think how dreadful it is, to be 
dragged up when you're asleep in the night, 
and whipped, when you have not been a 
naughty boy." 

He was fond of repeating to himself, after 
he had retired, passages from the Bible, 
which he committed to memory. It would 



SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 135 

seem tliat lie dwelt most upon those which 
seemed to have reference to his own past, or 
present condition. He was hoard many times 
to say in his solitary apartment, witli tender 
intonations: 

" I was brought low, and He helped me." 
The excellent pair, who extended to him 
their kind protection, felt for the amiable 
child a true parental regard. Grod's blessing 
seemed to descend into their hearts, and 
comfurt them for the children they had lost, 
with a quiet joy in the one they had found. 
Yet they could not repress their anxiety at 
the increasing indications of his failing health. 
Whether it was the result of a naturally feeble 
constitution, or of the hardships he had en- 
dured from an intemperate man's tyranny, 
the physicians were not agreed. His poor 
mother had died, a few months after his 
adoption. It was God's will, that in less 
than a year, he should follow her. Every 
care that skill and affection could devise, 
was lavished on the orphan, but in vain. 



136 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

When so weak, as to be unable to walk, 
lie steadfastly regarded the bed on which he 
was laid, and said : 

"Is this my death-bed? my death-bed ?^^ 
He seemed to have imbibed the impression 
that it would differ in aspect from other 
places of repose, having heard it spoken of 
with solemnity. Having scanned it with 
attention, he laid down his head, repeating: 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft, as downy pillows are." 

To his kind foster-mother, as she watched 
over him, he said, once at midnight: 

"I shall go to your boy and girl. Will 
they be angry with me, because I lived in 
their house, and used some of their play- 
things? Will they kiss me, and hold out 
their hand to me, as you do?" 

The work of death was lingering, and 
severe, — but he was patient and lamb-like. 
He seemed to have no will of his own. All 
that troubled him was, to see the grief of hia 
parents. 



RAVIXUS OF LITTLE ONES. lo? 

"Oil, sir, my good fatlior — dear mother, 
don't cry, don't cry. It is all light over 
head. The Saviour will save me." 

And so, the gentle orphan, whose short 
life had comprised so much of sorrow and 
of joy, went home, to the Father of his 
spirit. Tenderly loved, and truly mourned 
was he, by those who had nobly rescued him 
from penury and injustice ; and in his brief 
course of budding loveliness and fervent grati- 
tude, they found full payment for their liber- 
ality. But a rapturous plaudit awaits them 
hereafter, from lips divine: "Inasmuch as ye 
did it unto one of the least of these, ye have 
done it unto me." 



A child born blind, as his intellio-ence ex- 
panded, was inquisitive about the pleasur<^s 
of sight. The tint of the flowers, whose 
frao-rance cheered him — the chano-es of the 
landscape, and the faces of loved ones, were 
themes of earnest inquiry, and tireless inves- 
tigation. Curiosity Avas intensely in action, 
12* 



138 SAYINGS OF LITTLE ONES. 

and sometimes repining mingled with his 
sense of exclusion from the wonders of nature 
and of art. 

But gradually, his disposition to murmur, 
died away, as the discordant string of an in- 
strument is tuned to harmony. A musing 
thoughtfulness opened to him internal joys, 
and the will of his Father in Heaven was 
accepted as wise and good. A new principle 
seemed unfolded in his character. Those who 
knew him intimately, spoke of it, as an 
inward training, and fitness for a better 
world. 

Thither he was called, by the agency of a 
lino-erino; decline. It was touching; to see his 
sightless eyes so oft raised in prayer to the 
All-merciful. At last, as the parents bent 
over the boy so much endeared by suffering 
and patience, they heard cheering tones, as 
of a triumph strain: 

"Oh! I see! I see! Darkness and blind- 
ness are ffone. The liffht shineth." 

Yes! the perfect day had come. 



IP art JTourtl). 



POEMS EOE MOTHERS. 



" Oh God ! thou hast a fountahi stirred, 
"Wlwse waters never more shall rest : 

The pulse first cauf^ht its tiny stroke, 
The blood its crimson hue from mine ; 

This life that I have dared invoke, 
Henceforth is parallel with thine." 

Mrs. Emily Judsos. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



JESUS, THE EXEMPLAR. 



" He took a child, and set him in the midst." 
St. Ma UK. 



He set him in the midst, that Jewish child, 
"With his clear, lustrous eye and raven hair, 
A simple wonder on his timid brow. 
Yet, by the Saviour's side content to stand, 
If he might only see that holy smile. 
And hear the voice Divine. 

He led him forth, 
Regardless of the supercilious scorn 
That cufl'd the lip of boastful Pharisee, 
And wily scribe, that the Great Teacher's hand 
Should tLus invest with dignity, a child 
Lowly and ignorant, o'erlooking them 
W ho wore the " stand-by ! " on their haughty brow. 

Not the wise Rnbbi, learned in the Law 
And loud in disputatious lore, He chose, 



142 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Nor even his own disciples; for he knew 
The inmost folds of man's dissembling heart, 
And how the secret seeds of ill may lurk 
Darkly within, while all around is fair. 

" Of such my kingdom is." 

Oh Pomp and Pride, 
Bow down reprov'd ; and Wealth that gorgeous rid'st 
The golden-crested wave, and Power that dar'st 
To use its might unjustly, look on him. 
The single-hearted and the meek, and fear 
Lest all your vaunted gains on earth but prove 
Loss at the last, and coming to the Gate 
Where Christ hath with his followers entered in^ 
Ye find it shut. 

Behold ! the little child 
Still standeth in their midst. A holy love. 
Casting out self, he bringeth in his hand 
For his young Mother, and she so may use 
The discipline of this new principle, 
That all her cares, yea, all her woes shall work 
A fitness in her trusting soul for Heaven. 

Oh gentle childhood ! by a Saviour made 
The Pattern and Exemplar unto those 



POEMS FOR MOTHEUS. 113 

Who thro' this treacherous world would come to Him, 

Sweet Blossom of our Being ! be our guide, 

That 'mid the fever and the dust of time 

Wilde "'d, and heavy-shod, and sad at heart, 

And travel-worn, we may not lose at last 

Thy guileless pattern of the pure in heart 

Who sh;d] see God. 



144 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE MOTHER'S BLESSING. 



What bringetli a joy o'er thy pallid mien, 
More deep than the prime of thy youth had seen ? 
What kindleth a beam in thy thoughtful eye 
Like the vestal flame from a purer sky ? 
Sweet were her tones, as the wind-harp free, 
" The smile of the babe that is born to me." 

What maketh thy home with its noiseless shade 
More dear than the haunts where thy beauty strayed ? 
Than the dance where thy form was the zephyr's 

Aving ? 
Than the crowded hall, or the charmed ring ? 
Than the flatterer's wile, with its siren strain ? 
" The voice of the babe that with care I trainP 

What lendeth the landscape a brighter hue ? 
A clearer spark to the diamond dew ? 
What giveth the song of the bird ite zest. 
As straw by straw it dolh build ib nest ? 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 145 

What sweetenevhi the flowers on tlieir budding stalks ? 
** The kiss of the child hy my side that walks^ 

What quickeneth thy prayer Avhen it seeks the Throne 

With a fervor it never before had known ? 

What girdeth thy hfe in its daily scope 

For the hibor of love, and the patience of hope ? 

The freedom from self, and the high intent, 

" The soul of tlie child that my God hath lentJ^ 

13 



146 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE EAGLE. 



'TwAS noontide ou Ben Lomond's brow. 

And 'mid its darkest crest, 
Where cliff with foliage densely wove, 

Was hung an eagle's nest. 

Uprising thence, the parent-bird 

On steady wing, and slow, 
With heaving breast, and ardent eye 

AUur'd her young below. 

While they with pinion feebly spread, 

A narrow circle tried, 
Until with nobler courage fir'd, 

They ventur'd by her side : 

Then mounting high, on spiral course, 
With strength sublime they flew. 

And soaring toward the King of Day, 
Were lost in ether blue. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 147 

Aud as I watcli'd their glorious flight, 

There rose a yearning prayer 
For those who hold the immortal soul 

Within their guiding care. 

Oh ! youthful Mother, never cease 

Beside thy cradle nest, 
At ev^ery waking morn to point 

The region of the blest; 

And still with fond and holy zeal 

Embalm each evening hour, 
As steals the dew-drop to the heart 

Of the unfolding flower; 

Nor shrink above the heavenly hills 

To lead thy nurslings' way, 
Lest the young Eaglets' early flight 

Reprove thine own delay. 



148 rOEMS FOR MOTHERS, 



" NOTHING BUT LOVE." 

" After a while, he opened his dying eyes, and fixed them earnestly 
on his fiither, who, thinking that he wanted something, said, ' What is 
it, dear Willie ? ' ' Nothing,' he replied, ' dear father I Notliing but 
love.' " — Memoir of William B. Kimber. 



^'■Nothing hut love!'" — dear cliild, what wowldst thou 
more ? 
Brief wanderer on a shore 
With coral and frail shells o'erspread, 
That every trampling hoof into the sands may tread, 
Leaving its impress deep and cold, 
Grief's gatherVl tears to hold ; 
Thou hast a gainer been, 'raid storm and strife, 
Of holy Love — the pearl of life — 

The richest g-era of all 
That to mortality may fall: — 
Faith standeth on her rock sublime," 
Hope strives to anchor in the floods of time ; 

But lo ! the riven rock — the ebbing tide — 
"While love surmounting death, shall evermore abide. 



POEMS FOR MOTIIEilS. 149 

^^ Nothing but wealth P^ So say the worldly train; 
AUu«i, poor laborers ! cheated of their gain ; 
Leaving their wages when their work is o'er, 
And cominjT not ajrain 
To count the unadded score, 

Or urge the indebted train : 
See ! the stiff hands are cold, 
Nor longer grasp the gold; 
Their heirs faint show of decent sorrow make, 
Yet only count their spoils, while the vex'd heart- 
string-s break. 

'■'■ 2^othing but fame! ''^ 
Exclaims the aspu-ing soul — 

" I '11 write my dazzling name 
On the world's topmost scroll." 
He climbs, and falls, and dies! 
While mocking echoes rise, 
Of praise that men forget to hear — 
Sounds that die upon the bier; 
While hollow voices murmur on the blast — 
He sow'd the winds, and reap'd the whirlwind's wreck 
at last. 

''NotJ^ng but love!'' 

Oh, boy of a few summers ! Tliou wert wise 
18* 



150 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

The warrior's lore above, 
Above the monarch's pride, 
"Who lose the spirit's clue, 'mid earth's unrest. 
And seek an unknown shore, 
Where time's fleet dream is o'er; 
Without the passport of the crucified : 
Still from thy large, blue lustrous eye, 
And the faint pulses of thy failing breast, 
Spoke forth the peace of Heaven that can not die, 
Tho' sternest death-clouds rise ; — 
Wealth fades; ambition on the blast doth fly. 
But love forever breathes the essence of the sky. 



rOEJIS FOR MOTIIEUa. 151 



HOUSEHOLD FESTIVALS. 



The birthday of the precious child ! 

"With merry laughter fraught, 
It graspeth in its little hand 

The toy it long had sought. 

The birthday of the blooming boy, 

The maiden fair and sweet, 
Where treasured gifts and woven floAvers, 

And hallow'd blessings meet. 

The birthday of the silver-haired ! — 
The nurshngs climb their chair, 

While kiss, and offered token speak 
Of filial love and care. 

The birthday of the absent ! — Thought 

On winged scroll shall fly 
Where distant zones enwrap the earth, 

Or mountains meet the sky, — 



152 rOEJIS FOR MOTHERS. 

Shall bear above the ocean-waves 
That black with anger frown, 

A love its waters may not quench, 
Nor all their billows di-own. 

The birthday of the dead! Be sure 

That sacred day to keep ; 
Send portions to the sick and poor, 

And comfort those who weep: 

Wrap garments round the shrinking form, 

Home for the orphan find, 
And bid the light of knowledge beam 

O'er the untutored mind : — 

Spread wide the page that speaks of God, 
Speed on the mission band, 

O'er western vales, or Asia's wilds, 
Or far Liberia's strand : — 

Give teachers to the prairie-child. 

Give hope to souls forlorn ; 
Speak kindly words to erring hearts. 

That feel the stinjr of scorn : — 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS 153 

Remember those who climb the shroud, 

And plow the boisterous main, 
Breathe pity through the prison-gnte, 

O'or sin's despairing train : — 

To all mankind, be deeds or prayers 

Of pure good-will be given ; 
So shall the birthdays of the dead 

Help thine own soul to Heaven. 



154 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE RAIN-LESSON. 



" Mother, it rains ! " 

And tears like rain fell down. 
" Oil, little daughter, see the plants rejoice ; 
The rose-buds blush, aud in your garden-bed 
The drooping violets look so gladly up. 
Blessing our God for rain. He knows what 's best." 

" Yes, mother, he knows every thing. And so. 
He surely knows there 's but one afternoon 
In all the week that I can have from school. 
And 't is the third that I 've had leave to go 
And play with Mary, if it did not rain, 
And gather wild-flowers in her father's grove, 
And now it rains again." 

The mother took 
The mourner on her knee, and kiss VI away 
The blinding grief. And then she told her tales 
Of the great eastern deserts parch'd and dry, 
And how the traveler 'mid the buruiner sanda 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 155 

Watches for rain-clouds with a fainting gaze, 
And sliow'd her pictures of the caravan, 
And tlie poor camel with his outstretched neck 
Longing for water. 

And she told her, too, 
Of the sad mother in the wilderness, 
And the spent water-bottle ; how she laid 
Her darling son among the shrubs to die. 
Bowing her head down that she might not see 
The agony of the long death from thii-st. 
And how the blessed angel, when she prayed, 
Brought water from the skies, to save her child. 
And other stories from the Book of God 
Breath'd that kind teacher to the listening one 
Seated so meek beside her; how there fell 
No rain in Israel, till the grass decay'd. 
And the brooks wasted, and the cattle died, 
And good Elijah with his earnest prayer 
Besought the Lord, till the consenting cloud 
Gave rain, and thankful earth her fruits restor'd. 

And then they sang a hymn, and full of joy 
The baby, crowing from his nurse's arms. 
Came in and joined them, creeping merrily 
After bis little sister, fill hor pain 



156 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Of disappointment all absorb'd in love, 

She thanked her mother for the pleasant time 

And for her tender lessons. 

So, that night, 
Amid her simple prayer, they heard her say 
Words of sweet praise to Him whose mercy gives 
The blessed rain. 

" For now, I know, dear God, 
What pleases Thee is best." 

Oh Mother ! seek 
Ever through cloud and sunshine, thus to lead 
Thy little hearts to love Him ; so, the tear 
Shall brighten like the rainbow here, and gleam 
At last, a pearl-drop in thy crown of life. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 157 



A MOTHER'S EVENING THOUGHTS 



Oh, homefelt Lliss ! — so passing sweet, 

The cliocrful fire beside, 
My baby orcepinpf at my fot, 

Who oft with ghmce of pride 
Looks back eli>l.e, and pleased to show 
How fast his tiny feet can go. 

And closely seated at my side, 

My little daughter fair, 
Whose doll upon her knee doth ride, 

Essays a matron's care, — 
While many a lesson, half severe. 
With kisses mixed, must dolly hear. 

There lie my volumes, closed and still, 
Those chosen friends of old ; 

The pen, regardless of my will, 
Lurks in its bronzed hold ; 

High joys they gave, but not so dear, 

As those that gild my fireside here. 
14 



158 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Where liarp and viol carol sweet, 

'Mid youth's unfolding hours, 
And gladness wings the dancer's feet, 

That seem to tread on flowers, — 
I've shared the cup, — it sparkled clear, — 
'Twas foam, — the precious draught is here. 

I've trod the lofty halls, where dwell 

The noblest of our land, 
And met, tho' humble was my cell. 

Warm smile, and greeting hand; 
Yet she doth feel a thrill more blest. 
Who lulls her infant on her breast. 

Strong words of praise, — such words as gird 

To high ambition's deed, — 
The impulse of my mind have stirred, 

Though all uneamed their meed : 
Yet what of these ? — they fleet away, 
Like mist before afiection's ray. 

Though many a priceless gem of bliss 

Hath made my pathway fair, 
Yet have I known no joy like this, 

A mother's nursing care, — 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 159 

To mark, whea stars of luidniglit shine, 
My baby's bright eye fixed on mine. 

Even she, of beauty's brightest ray. 

By fashion's tlirong carest, 
If from that pomp slie turn away 

To build a hallowed nest; 
And hoard the jewels of the heart. 
Like Mary, finds the "better part." 

Might woman win earth's queenliest rose, 

Yet miss that wild-flower's zest, 
Which by the lowliest cradle grows, 

'Twere but a loss at best; 
Pass on, Great World, in all thy pride, 
I've made my choice, and here abide. 



160 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



TfTE WIDOW'S CHILD. 



That noble boy ! what Lues of tlioiigbt 

Steal o'er Lis forehead high, 
As on the flower he fain would grasp, 

He bends an eager eye ; — 

Yes, clasp the blossom thou hast won, 

Ere their frail leaves shall fall. 
And with their fragrance fill thy soul, 
Thou fairest bud of all. 

Oh child ! 'tis but a cliase of flowers 
Throughout this earthly glade, 

A toil to seek, a smile to win, 
A tear to see them fade. 

But she, whose dearest earthly prop, 
Rests in the church-yard low. 

What thoughts are hers, who finds a babe 
Sole solaco of her woe ? 



\ 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 161 

For if a liappy niotbor's love 

Since first the woi'ld began, 
Hath ever been too exquisite, 

For feeble speecli to scan. 

With wliat intense absorbing thrill 

Of grief and gladness wild, 
Must a lone widow's stricken heart 

Cling to her only child ! 

14* 



1C2 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE HOME TREASURY. 



" What liave you brought to our own fireside ? " 
'T was a mother's voice that spake : 

" The wintry tempest doth loudly chide, 

But peace and joy shall with us abide, 
Oh ! cherish them for my sake. 

" A common stock is our happiness here, 
Each heart must contribute its mite 

The bliss to swell, or the pain to cheer, — • 

Husband and son, and daughter dear. 
What have you brought to-night 3 " 

Then the studious boy from his storied page 
Looked up with a thoughtful eye ; — 

Knowledge gleamed thence which doth charm the 
sage. 

And shine like a flame through the frost of age, 
With warmth and majesty. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 163 

A girl was there, like a rose on its stem, 

And her sacred song she poured ; 
Beauty and music, a blended gem, 
Shook from their sparkling diadera, 

To enrich the evening hoard. 

By a pale, sick child, was a treasure brought, 

The smile of patient trust, — 
For disease had a precious moral taught, 
And quiet and pure was her chastened thought, 

As a pearl by the rude sea nureed. 

An infant came from its cradle-bed, 

And clung to the mother's breast, 
But soon to the knee of the sire it sped, 
Love was its gift, and the angels said 

That the baby's gift was best. 

Then the father spake with a grateful air 

Of the God whom his youth had known, — 
And the mother's sigh of tender care 
Went up in the shape of a winged prayer, 
And was heard before the Throne. 



164 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE BELOVED SCHOOL-BOY. 



How sad it seems, when from the parent's door, 
While spring's rich blossoms load the bending spi-ay, 

With funeral dirges to return no more, 
An idol of their trust is borne away, — 

The eldest of a cherished group — that press 

Aiouad the household board to share the fond caress. 

Yet when we muse on al! the ills and snares 
That to this changeful pilgrimage belong, — 

The hidden dangers, and the haiTowing cares 

That round the faltering feet of manhood throng, 

Why should we thus their fate repining grieve, 

Who ere the battle-strife a full discharge receive? 

For could we comprehend the boundless plan 
That but in broken parts we erring trace. 

Perchance the lot that here through tears we scan, 
Might rather move our acquiescent praise : 

Three lustrums of young life, undimmed, unpained, 

The woes of time escaped, and deathless being gained. 



POEMS FOR MOTIIEIiS. 1G5 

So he hath gone to rest, before the hours 
Of trial caino, and o'er his pillow fair, 

Fresh opened buds, and tlie pale planted flowers 
With boughs of fadeless green, entwining rare. 

The faithful hands of sorrowing schoolmates spread. 

While mourns the chosen friend, as for a brother dead. 

Yes, — he hath gone to rest, u2:)on whose brow 
At waking life the dews of baptism lay. 

Who at God's Book and Day, was taught to bow, — 
Holding his course in upright love, — and say, 

By Him who stamped his image on our clay, 

Can the sweet soul of truth, be ever cast away ? 

For if to angels near the throne that bow. 

The Eternal counsels deeply veiled appear, 
Think it not strange, oh Christian soul, that thou 
Shouldst pass in mystery through this cloud-girt 
sphere ; 
Faith is thy jewel, — hoard its diamond spark 
To light thy heavenward path, though all around be 
dark. 



166 POEMS FOE MOTHERS. 



THE MOTHER AND BABE. 



A feeble babe lay sleeping, and the heart 
Of the young mother overflowed with joy, 
For on its pallid brow she seemed to trace 
Returning health. 

Forgot was all the care 
Of her night- patchings, w^hen the midnight lamp 
Waned heavily, and its hot fever-breath 
Burned on her cheek. Now its thin hand was cool 
And moist in hers, and to the winds she gave 
Her specter fears, while to the chime of Hope, 
Wreathing its anchor with fresh-opening flowers. 
Her own deep love in low response replied. 

"Rest thee, my beautiful! and cherub dreams 
Shed heavenly heahng o'er thee. 

Fain I 'd know 
What this small hand will do, when time hath knit 
Its threadlike sinews to a manly strength ; 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 167 

What this small hand ami busy braiu shall do 
"When time uufolds them. 

From ambition's cliff, 
Will they pluck laurels ? or with shepherd's crook 
Lead on a willing flock through pastures green, 
Beside Salvation's waters ? 

Answer me, 
Mine own ! Wilt wake in some fair maiden's breast 
Love's speechless thrill ? — or o'er thy gentle babes 
Pour forth the life of life, as I for thee ? " 

But lo ! the Angel, wbo is ever near 

These little ones, of whom Heaven's kingdom is. 

Whispered, " Thou canst not know. To plant and 

pray 
While the brief seed-time lasts, and in thy love 
Find payment for all toil, — that is thy lot. 
Leave the dim future in the Unerring Hand. 
Sweet mother, be content." 

She bowed her head, 
And listened to the breathing of her child, 
And lightly pressed his velvet lip, and sighed, — 
♦' Ah ! is there secret canker in my bud ? 
And must death blight it ? " 



168 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Then the Angel said, 
" Be still. For there 's a deeper grief than theirs 
W'ho lay the unsunned blossom in the tomb: — 
A pang, to which the mourner's bitterest tear 
Over the holy dead is ecstasy. 
God save thee from such grief!" 

The mother asked, 
"With shuddering heart and wonder on her brow, 
" What can that soi-row be ? " 

No word he spake, 
But with a sun-ray traced the downward course 
Of one who hates the truth, and gives his hand 
Unto the prince of darkness, and is lost. 

So then, that thoughtful one, whose lot it was 
To bring with pain into a world of sin 
A never-dying soul, besought of God, 
Only to keep her darling treasure pure. 
And claim it when he would. 



POEMS FOK MOTHERS. 169 



NELLY'S REQUEST. 



There was a shaded chamber, 

A silorit, watching hand, 
On a low couch, a sufteriug child, 

Who grasped the mother's hand. 

She had told her faith in Jesus, - 

Her simple prayer was said. 
And now, that darkened vale she trod. 

Which leadeth to the dead. 

Red fever scorched her bosom, 
Frost chilled the vital flame, 

And her sweet, meek brow was troubled, 
As anguish smote her frame. 

Yet, 'mid the gasp and struggle. 

With shuddering lips, she cried, 
" Oh, mother — dearest mother, 

Bury me by j'our Bide." 
15 



170 rOEMS FOR MOTHEES. 

*' But where will you be buried ? 

My darling Nelly — where ? — 
In that green, shady dell you loved 

With earliest violets fair ? 

" Or in the ancient church-yard, 
Where we were wont to stray, 

'Mid the white, marble mouuiuents? — 
My little Nelly — say!" 

But the thought of flowers had faded, 
The green dell charmed n j more. 

Dim grew those marble monuments, 
With all their lettered lore. 

And one lone image lingered. 
Bright, 'mid the wreck of earth, 

That love, which with her soul was knit. 
Even from the horn- of birth. 

One only wish she uttered, 
While life was ebbing fast, — 

" Sleep by my side, deaj- mother, 
And rise with me at last." 

'T is o'er, — the spirit parted 
With that long, tender moan ; 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 171 

Check not tliy grief, fond mother, 
Thou daughterless and lone. 

Weep freely,— Clirist liath hallowed 

The tear that nature Mrin^-s; 
And see how peaceful rests the clay, 

That pain no lonofer stino-s. 

Look! look! the thin lip quivers, 

The blue eyes open wide, 
And whatasoft, loWjWdiisper steals, — 

" Bury me by your side." 

And did the spirit falter 

Upon its upward track, 
To strew this never-dying flower 

In tender token back ? 

Even at the gate of Heaven, 

Whence songs of angels flow. 
Remembered it the cradle hymn 

That soothed its infant woe ? 

Oh, mothers' love f thus strong to hire 

A seraph from on high ; 
Be faithful to thy trust — and bear 

Thy nurslings to the sky. 



172 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



CHARITY-SCHOOL AT CHRISTMAS. 



"While the merry Christmas morning 

Spreads abroad its cheering ray, 
Groups from lowly dwellings gather, 

Smiling as they take their way. 
Not the favored bands, whose stockings 

Santa Claus overflowing fills, 
But the little working-people, 

From the hamlets and the hills. 

Not with light and f liry movement, 

Fitted to the courtly danci'; 
But with heavy, honest trampii:^-:". 

Sturdy boys and girls advance. 
Here and there a tiny creature, 

By the elder sister led, 
Enters, with a pleasrint wonder 

O'er its liaby features spread. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 17J 

Many a useful garment waits them,- 

Sacksy and hoods, and aj^rons new, 
And a warm, substantial covering 

For the feet, so cold and blue. 
Heart-shaped cakes, with sugar frosted. 

With confections studded o'er. 
Glittering tools for busy seamstress, 

Proudly swell their Christmas store. 

Precious books of holy teaching-, 

Robed in red, and rimmed with gold, — 
Each young bosom bcateth quicker, 

As such treasures they unfold. 
Haply for a di-ooping parent, 

Wearied with a lot of care. 
For the grandsire, lame and feeble. 

Some entrusted gift they bear. 

Gentle voices kindly greet them, 

Lily hands the tippet tie; 
And the child that hath no mother. 

Feels the glad tear in its eye. 
Little bi'ows are bright with pleasure, 

Little thankful heads bowed low ; 
15* 



174 POEMS FOE MOTHERS. 

For this blessed sun of Christmas 
Gilds a year of want and woe. 

Rich man! — let thy little daughter 

Be an actor in the scene, 
Learning through this joy of giving, 

What the Gospel's precepts mean. 
Rich and poor, in grateful chanting 

For the joy that visits earth. 
Join to bless the dear Redeemer 

On the morn that gave him birth. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 175 



BURIAL OF THE EMIGRANT'S BABE. 



I mused amid the place of graves, 

When the brief autumn day, 
With its lioarsc minstrelsy of storms, 

Sank to its rest away : 
The long grass gave a rustling sound, 

As to the mourner's tread, 
And lo ! a lonely woman came, 

The bearer of her dead. 

No stately hearse, or sable pall, 

Or tall plumes waving high, 
Impressed the solemn pousp of woe 

Upon the passer-by; 
But nature's grief, so oft unknown 

Beside the proud man's bier. 
Where long processions slowly move, 

Spake forth resistless, here. 

No foot of neighbor or of friend,' 

In pitying love drew nigh. 
Nor the sweet German dirge breathed out, 

As 'neath her native sky. 



176 rOEMS FOR JIOTHERS. 

To bless the clay tliat came to sleep 

"Within the balloweJ sod, 
Aud emidate that triumph strain 

Which gives the soul to God. 

Poor babe ! that gi'ie'>'ing breast from ■whence 

Th}'^ transient life-stream floNved, 
Doth press the coffin as it goes 

On to the last abode ; 
Those patient arms that sheltered thee, 

With many a tender prayer. 
In sad reluctance yield thee back 

To earth, thy mother's care. 

No priestly hand tlie immortal scroll 

Of heavenly hope displayed. 
As in the drear and darkened vault 

Her infant gem she laid ; 
And wildly mid the stranger shades 

Of that sequestered dell, 
The lofty language of the Rhine, 

In troubled cadence fell. 

But grasping fast the mourner's skirts, 
In wonder aud in fear, 



POEMS FOR MOTIIEIiS. 177 

A boy, wlio thiico tlio spring had seen. 

Stood all unnoticod nigh ; 
And wistful on his tnother's face 

Wjis fixed that fair cliild's eye, 
While tear-drops o'er his glowing cheek 

Gushed forth, he knew not why : 

For Sympathy's o'erwhelming sob 

Awoke his bosom's strife, 
And wondering sorrows sti'oagly stirred 

The new-born fount of life; 
Yea, — still that scene of woe must gleam 

From Life's unwritten page, 
Though Memory's casket he should search 

With the dim eye of Age. 

But with so strong and deep a power " 

That lonely funeral stole, 
Among the pictured scenes that dwell 

Forever in the soul, 
That often when I wander near, 

And sad winds murmur low, 
Starting, I seem ance more to hear 

That wailinsf mother's woe. 



178 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



LEFT CHILDLESS. 



Mother of kings! — with what a lofty port 
Among the nobles of the realm, she reigned, 

And drank the incense of a venal court, « 

As though her brow the regal crown sustained. 

Mother of heroes ! — what a thrill of pride 

Ran through her bosom, when their fame was won; 

Such was her joy, who cradled at her side 
Our " pater patriae," godlike Washington ! 

But thou, meek and saintly one, whose tear 
Flows forth so frequent o'er the burial sod. 

Far higher honor waits thy woe severe ; 

Mother of angels! — stay thy soul on Godl 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 179 



CHRIST BLESSING CHILDREN. 



It was a lonely village, girt with hills, 
Beyond the banks of Jordan, where our Lord 
Turned from the city, to forego awhile 
The toils and tumults of Jerusalem. 
Nature had quietly and quaintly wrought 
In that wild haunt. The gray, primeval rocks 
Made solemn contrast to the tender green 
That mantled timidly around their base, 
And to the slightly-rooted shrubs, that sprang 
From rift and crevice. 

There, a multitude 
Followed his footsteps, eager to lay down 
The burdens of their mortal misery, 
And He, with touch divine, had healed them all. 

But then, another differing train drew near, 
Whose tread, gazelle-like, told no mournful tale 
Of paralytic lore, — and whose bright eyes. 
Wide open, in their simple wonderment, 
Revealed unbroken league with health and joy. 

Some had been wandering o'er the pasture fields 



180 POEMS FOK MOTHERS. 

With the young lamhs, and in then- tiny hands 
Were the bhie flax-llower and the lily-buds, . 
While through the open portal of their hearts, 
Sweet odors led sweet thoughts in tireless play. 
Others, from shady lanes, and cottage doors, 
The dark-eyed Jewish mothers, gathering, brought 
Unto the feet of Christ. 

"Ye may not press 

Upon the Master; lie is wearied sore: 
Hence! Go your way." 

So the disciples spake, 
As with impatient gestures they repelled 
The approaching groups. 

But Jesus, unto whom 
The smile of guileless, trusting innocence 
Was dear, reproved their arrogance, and said, 
"Suffer the little ones to come to me; 
Of such as these, my Father's kingdom is." 

With what high rapture beat tlie matron heart, 
When those fair infants in Hia sheltering arms 
Were folded, and amid their lustrous curls 
His hand benignant laid. 

Oh, blissful hour! 
None save a mother's thrilling love can know 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. ISl 

Tho tide of Rpooohloss ecstasy, whon thoso, 
^Vllom she liath brouijlit Avith pain into (he world, 
Find refuge with the unforsaking Friend. 
Like holiest dews upon the opening flower. 
The Saviour's blessing fell. 

So sweet its tones 
Breathed on the ear, that men of pride and strife, 
Started to feel a bahn-drop in their souls 
Softening the adamant; while humble Faith 
Exulted, as, through parting clouds, she saw 
The children's angels near the Father's throne. 

16 



182 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



MY LITTLE SON.* 



I have a son, an only son, 

Now scarcely four years old, 
And liappy is lie all the day. 

Mid the garden's blossomed mold, 
Or 'ner.th the cool, umbrageous elm. 

Where the green lawn sti'etchcs Avide, 
His loving* little sister. 

Companion at his side ; 
Or if she 's at her simple task, 

In summer-house he '11 stay, 
Or loitering tread the gravel walks 

Till she comes to join his play. 

He claps his tiny hands with joy 

As the oi'iole flashes by, 
Or darts the bee from flower to flower, 

Like living jewelry ; 

• This rather antique poem is inserted at the request of a friend, 
though itn substance is embodied in tlie memoir entitled, " Tlie Faded 
Hope." 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 183 

He whispers to the new-born buds 

That rose or lily bear, 
As if they understood his words, 

Or brought some message rare, 
And sometimes greets with gentle kiss 

The pansies bright Avith dew, 
Still deeming every flower his friend. 

And Him who made them too. 

The humblest forms of reptile life 

That of the earth are born, 
He followeth with a pitying eye. 

To help and not to scorn. 
All kindly on the beetle-bug 

And hop-toad doth he look, 
And fears the hoarse old turtle's sick, 

That croaked beside the brook. 
"Poor caterpillar's got no home, 

He 's crawling in the street ; 
Go bring him to the kitchen fire, 

And warm his frosty feet." 

Upon my knee he sat yestern 
And begged a lesson small, 
So I told him of the warrior ants 



184 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

That in huge armies crawl, 
Of the wily crocodile that hides 

Among the murmuring reeds, 
And of the sharp-beaked warbler, 

That on the gadfly feeds ; 
But on my arm his hand he laid, 

With strong amazement stirred, 
" Catch flies ! — kill flies ! Oh, mamma dear, 

Will God forgive the bird ? " 

Then, where our poultry congregate, 

He mounteth box or chair, 
And throwing wide his plump, white arms, 

He preacheth to them there, — 
Unto the fan-tailed turkeys, 

The nobles of the yard. 
And the patient, brooding mothers 

Their peeping race that guard : 
"You great ones must not peck the small, 

No quarrels let there be ; 
Obey! my people, r.nd be good! 

Or Heaven you will not see." 

How tender is that earnest child 
To even the lowliest thing. 



rOEMS FOR MOTHERS. 185 

To the chirping nations of the grass 

That spread a gauzy wing; 
Heharmeth not the spider, 

Which many scream to see, 
Nor scorns the locust's shrilly song 

Of noontide melody; 
Or at his simple nursery meal 

Will toil with hand and eye, 
From his own silver water-cup 

To save the drowning fly. 

When sometimes through the thronging streets 

He rides with watchful ken. 
And bends a grave and wondering brow 

On all the ways of men, 
For each unclad, uncultured child 

He craves with mournful grace, 
" Shoes to his feet, bread in his hand. 

And water for his face ; " 
Or to his faithful nuree appeals 

With an imploring mien, — 
" Take home that boy to Andrew's bath 

And wash him nice and clean." 

Yet though so gentle is his heart 

At every sight of wronc, 
16* 



186 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

It kindletli witli a LutLer's might 

In sudden coui-age strong. 
The boy that o'er a weaker one 

With tyrant power doth peei-, 
The man that o'er a helpless beast 

Uplifts the lash severe, 
May see a wrathful baby-face 

Thrust forth fi'om carriage door, 
And hear the imperative command 

To do such deeds no more. 

A pleasant rural home hath he, 

Where grove and falling stream. 
And trellised vine, and tinted flower, 

Give coloi-ing to his dream. 
Thei-e hangs the peach, with cheek of gold, 

The grape in clusters fair, 
And blushing in its broad expanse 

The strawberry rich and rare. 
And when he leaves, so strong within 

The love of home doth burn, 
That like a bird to leafy nest 

He joyeth to return. 

His little sister he admires, 

And counts her wondrous wise; 



POEMS FOR JIOTIIEKS. 187 

Though not two yean? his senior, 

She 's a marvel in his eyes. 
And when she in her Bible reads, 

Or pours distinct and clear 
The gatherings of her home-taught lore 

Into a mother's ear, 
He to each lesson listenetli 

With all a brother's pride, 
And fondly draws his tiny chair 

Still closer to hei' side. 

And then with all his treasured joys, 

AVith all his trifling woes. 
Unto his Father in the skies, 

"With guileless trust lie goes ; 
He Avraps him in the curtain's fold. 

Or window shutter tall, 
And there a moment poureth forth 

His hopes and wishes all. 
Soft movement paits his ruby lii>s. 

But not a Avhispered tone, 
For he deems that to the ear Divine 

Each unclothed thought is known. 

Yet wheresoe'er he wandereth, 
Or whatsoe'er betide, 



188 POEMS FOK MOTHERS. 

From holy truth he swerveth not, 

His inmost spirits guide ; 
And so in innocence and peace 

Life's infant fountain swells, 
In love -with nature, and with Him 

Who made her fnir, he dwells. 
Oh ! ever in his righteous fear, 

And warm with zeal divine, 
God keep thee safe, my little son, 

Whose soul is knit with mine. 



POEMS FOIJ MOTHERS. 189 



HOME HAPPINESS. 



" Let not happy children he disturbed and grieved." 

Fredkbick AVilliam III., of Prussia. 

" The influence of home happiness on the young is a protection 
/igainst sin in future life." Rev. Dr. T. M. Clark. 



Make bright the hearth where children throng 

In innocence and glee, 
With smiles of love, the carol'd song,' 

The spirit's harraoiay, • 

The healthful sports the cheek that flush, 

The mother's fond caress, 
Nor let the stateliest fother blush 

His merry boy to bless. 

For, far adown the vale of life, 

When he his lot shall bear. 
That hallowed gleam shall cheer the strife, 

Au-l gild the clouds of care. 



190 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

If miduig-lit storms and breakers roar, 

Its treasured spell shall be 
A lightLoase 'mid the wrecking shore, 

The star of memory, — 

Shall warn him, when the siren's wiles 

His faltering feet entice ; — 
Make bright the hearth where cluldhood smiles, 

And guard the man from vice. 



POEMS FOR MOTUERS. 191 



REQUIESCAT IX PACE. 

' Until the day break, auJ the sliaUowi tlee away." — Solomon. 



"We 've laid thee down, our darling, on pillow dark 

and col'l, 
And Winter, iu Lis frosty shroud, thy cherished form 

doth fold; 
But Spring shall haste with faiiy feet the broken turf 

to tread, 
And bid her earliest violets weave their broidery 

round thy bed. 
Rich Summer shall remember thee with all her wealth 

of bloom, 
And Autumn strew his berries sere around thy vine- 
wreathed tomb; 
So here, while nature's sweetest gifts adorn the 

burial clay, 
Kosfc dearest, " till the day shall break, and shadows 
fleet away." 



192 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

'T is lonely here, my precious cue, though many 
dwell arouud, 

In costly cells of marble pure, or cloistered 'neath the 
ground, 

Yet none unseal the stony eye, or heave the rigid 
breast, 

Or stretch the courteous hand to greet the coming of 
a guest ; 

But the archangel's trumpet cry shall raise the slum- 
bering throng, 

And from their beds the saints arise and swell salva- 
tion's song, 

And so, in glorious hope, my son, of that rejoicing 
day. 

Rest peaceful " till the day shall break, and the 
shadows fleet away.** 



POEMS FOR 510TIIERS. 193 



GRAVE OF A FAIR CHILD AT MOUNT 
AUBURN. 



Sleep 'mid tlie flowers, oli, fairest form! 

Where suminer s liaiid doth shed 
Her precious gifts profusely forth 

To deck the hallowed dead. 

And what so fitting for thy couch 

Which love had ever drest, 
As yon fresh-budding rose that hides 

The dew-drop in its breast ? 

But for thy spirit, blessed child, 

Earth hath no type so fair. 
The fullness of that joy to show. 

Which thou shalt ever share. 

Nor eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, 

Nor feeble human heart, 
The brightness of that heaven conceived, 

In which thou hast a part. 
17 



194 rOEMS FOK MOTHERS. 

And ye, wlio tenderly deplore 
Beneath affliction's pang, 

The silence of the home, that erst 
With merry laughter rang, — 

Say, is it liot a glorious change, 

With uurepining tear. 
To find a deathless angel there^ 
For the frail treasure here ? 



POEMS FOR MOTHEKS 195 



THE PROMISES. 



Tho dawn Avas dim witli shadows. 

Chill and dense 
The vapory mantles floated, curtaining close 
The glimmering east, while bathed in heavy dews 
The folded spring-flowers slept. 

With drooping heads, 
Two mournful women sought the garden tomb, 
"Where slept the Crucified. Bewildering fear 
O'erpowered their giief, as bending down, they saw 
The linen vestments lying, yet found not 
ThiQ body of their Lord. Speechless with awe, 
Inwrapped in shining garments, they beheld 
One of the heavenly host, and heard his voice 
Of question and reproof: 

" Why seek ye thus 
The living 'mid the dead ? He is not here ! 
Not hei'e, — but risen ! Did ye not believe 
His word of promise ? " 

Terrified, they fled 
Back to the twelve. Yet they believed them not, 



196 rOEMS FOR MOTHEIiS. 

So liglitly had the assurance of tlieir Lord, 
To rise again, been held. Yet rapidly 
The feet of Peter, and of John, pursued 
The pathway to the tomb. 

What saw they there ? 
The master's corse, Avith pierced hands and feet ? 
Nay ! nay ! nor lifeless form, nor angel guest 
They found, while in remorseful shame they soughl 
Once more, the jewels they had madly strewn 
Unto the winds, — those blessed words of Christ, 
Repeated oft, — that he should rise again 
On the third day. How could ye thus forego, 
Faint-hearted few, such legacy divine ? 

Yet we, who blame, perchance, ourselves have shown 
Like unbelief, and 'mid life's mazes lost 
The lamp that would have led us througli the wild, 
Safe to the end; perchance, despairing wept 
O'er the turf-pillow of our bosom's dead, 
Who sleep in Jesus. 

Woman, bowed v>ilh grief, 
Who from the partner of thy youth ait torn. 
And shiverest like the aspen, as cold winds 
Breathe on thy wound, hast thou too cast av. ny 
The talisman God sends thee in his Book, — 
*' Oh widow ! tiust in me ? " Thy Counselor 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 197 

And rock of strength, sliall Le the Unchanging One, 

And 'mid the desolation that must walk 

Ever beside thee, balms of sympathy, 

Such as the world distilleth not, shall breathe 

On thy lone heart, if thou wilt trust in Ilira. 

Parent, — who plantedst in tlie joy of love, 
Yet hast not gathered fruit, save rankling thorns. 
Or Sodom's bitter apples, — hast thou read 
Heaven's promise to the seeker? Haste and brir^g 
Those, o'er whose cradle thou didst watch w^ith pride. 
And lay them at the Saviour's feet, — for lo! 
His shadow falling on the wayward soul, 
Dispenseth holy health. And when tliou kneel'st 
Low, at the pavement of sweet mercy's gate, 
Beseeching for thine erring ones, unfold. 
The passport of the King, — " Ask and receive ! 
Knock, and it shall be opened ! " — 

Ye who shrink 
'Neath time's adversities, — the weary months 
Of sickness and of pain, the treachery 
Of trusted friends, the agony that finds 
No comforter, — forget not who liath said 
That all things, all, shall work their good who love 
The Father of their spirits. 
17* 



198 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Lov'st thou liim ? 
Then to the bosom of thy firm beHef 
Take his eternal truth. And be thou strong, 
Yea, wear their smile who on celestial wing 
Hover around thee, whispering to thy heart, 
As one by one its cherished hopes decay, — 
*■'■ Notliere^ ht',t risen.^^ 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 199 



"I LAID ME DOWN, AND SLEPT." 



A blooming group, at evening prime, 
Moved by tbeir parent's voice, 

Eacb offered from the Book divine, 
Some fragment of tbeir choice. 

And one, a beauteous boy, o'er whom 
Four happy yeare bad swept, 

Raised Iiis clear, trustful eyes, and said, 
^'^ I laid me down, and slcpt.^'' 

" sweet, my son, the gem you bring; 

Yet know you not tlie rest ? 
*I woke, because the Lord sustained' — 

Complete the sentence blest." 

But still the student of the skies 

His first selection kept: 
*'No, dear mamma; just this alone, 

' Ilaid me down, and slejyt.'' " 



200 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

That niglit fierce sickness smote him sore, 

With dire dehrious pain, 
And fiercely on his heart-strings fed, 

Till every hope was vain. 

Then all at once, in shmiber soft 
" The darling sufiorer lay ; 
And, like a lamb of Jesus, slept 
His gentle life away. 

He slept; but with what glorious joy, 

In strains of sei-aph love, 
The woMng words he spoke not here, 

Shall be pronounced above. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 201 



MARY'S WHITE ROSE, 

An interesting and beautiful young laiily, in one of our western states, 
among her favorite flowers cherished a white, climbing rose. She was 
ambitious to have it reach the casement of her chamber, but when it 
did so, she was herself blighted by that spoiler, who so often marks the 
most lovely and beloved for his victims. 



" Oh ! train it to my window, — 
To iny window, fotlier dear ! " 

Thus rang tho voice of beauty, 
In accents sweet and clear. 

So, the doatiug father trained it, 
And pruned the withering leaves, 

Until the vigorous tree aspired 
Exulting toward the eaves. 

Yet when 3n summer-glory 
With all its clusters rare. 

It looked into her casement, 
Alas ! she was not there. 

They culled its fii-st-born blossoms, 
Full, fr;igrant orbs of snow, 



202 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

And o'er her pillow strewed them, 
A rich and lavish show. 

But she stretched no hand to take them, 
These flow'rets of her love, 

No ! she had risen to gather 
The Angel's Rose above. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 203 



THE DEAD INFANT. 



Oil, baby, dear and fair, 
The mother's fondest care, 

With gentle brow. 
And cheek of tender line, 
Like rose-bud dipped in dew, 

Where art thou now ? 

The snow-wreaths cluster round 
A little, lowly mound, 

All cold and drear; 
Methiuks I hear a sigh, 
On hoarse winds hurrying by, 

" She sleepeth here." 

No, no ; 't is naught but clay, 
That sinks and fades away, 

The grave can claim ; 
Faith sees the spirit blest, 
Safe in its Saviour's breast. 

Praise to his name. 



204 POEMS FOE MOTHERS. 



THE SISTER'S INTERCESSION. 



A TALE FROM THE SPANISH. 



On Leon's green and vine-clad bills 

The battle tumult died, 
And old Castilia's monarch laid 

His burnished helm aside, 

While thronging through his lofty halls 

The plumed hidalgos trod, 
And poured their strains of courtly praise 

Like incense to a god. 

But yet in his exulting breast 

There seemed a secret sting, 
For still he found the victor's joj 

At best a troubled thing ; 

And stealthily its changeful glow 

Stole o'er his haughty mien. 
Even like a transient nicteor-flash, 

The o-atherino- clouds between. 



POExMS FOK MOTHERS. 205 

"A suppliant seeks tliine ear, oh king!" 

And stately was her air, 
And rich her flowing robes, who came 

And knelt before him there. 

But sudden as she raised her veil, 

Those deep-sot eyes he knew. 
Made brfghter by the pearly drops 

That flecked their raven hue. 

*' My sister ! Princess Uraca ! 
Thou on the bended knee ! 
Why com'st thou from Tamora's towers? 
Rise, sister, — sit by me." 

The swelling hearts raised high the folds 

Above her bosom fair, 
And then "Alfonso's" cherished name 

Burst forth with earnest prayer. 

Back came again the battle face. 

The dark che«k burned like fire, 
And scarce a few hoarse, struggling words 

Escaped the storm of ire. 

"The blood of many a valiant knight 
Upon his soul doth lie, 
18 



206 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Whose red and cankered spots invoke 
The vengeance of tlie sky." 

" Oh ! for the dear Redeemer's sake, 

Who died that we might Hve, 
Who breathed upon the torturing cross 

The blessed word forgive. 

" Speak thou that same most heavenly word, 

And he who caused thy woe, 
A mournful man, to holy shades 

In penitence shall go ; 

" There day and night the ceaseless prayer 

Through all this mortal strife, 
Shall rise for thee, most Christian king, 

Who saved his forfeit life." 

" Plead not for him, — speak not his name, — 

I know his false heart well;" 
And fearful was the chilling pause 

That on the suppliant fell, 

Broke only by his heavy tramp 

As back and forth he strode. 
With gestures Avild and muttered threat, 

And brow that fiercely glowed. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 207 

Then, as the drooping blossom dares 

Once more the frosty sky, 
In timid hope, her spirit woke 

Its broken melody. 

*' Remembercst thou, that sad, sad night 

When our fond mother died ? 
And the death-caudle * faintly gleamed 

Her curtained couch beside ? 

" The crucifix, by priestly hands, 

Was slowly raised on high, 
Yet still from that most holy sign 

Her tender wandering eye, 

" O'ershadowed by its heavy lids, 

Like trembling violet fell 
Upon the little, awe-struck group 

She long had loved so well: 

" Elvira in her nurse's arms. 

Just newly waked from sleep, 
Gazed with a wondering baby-face 

In doubt to grieve or weep. 

• " And when the kin? liad saiJ this, he asked for the death -candle, 
and presently Iiis soul departed." — Chkonicle of tue Cid Campkador. 



208 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

" Alfonso's baud was clasped in mine 

As down w^e knelt to pray ; 
And tliou, the eldest born, didst kiss 

Our mingled teai'S away. 

•' Rememberest thou — " in bursting sobs 

The unclosed recital died ; 
Forgot was all the monarch's wrath, 

Forgot his victor pride. 

Once more his powerful arm she felt, 

As in the days of old. 
Impulsive draw her near his side. 

And to his bosom fold. 

She heard the whisper, '•'• I forgive^'' 

In quivering accent start, 
And bound it as a living gem 

Forever to her heart. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 209 



THOUGHTS IN A CHURCH-YARD. 



I have enriched this soil. Flesh of my flesh 
Is here deposited. 

Ci'ushed at my feet 
A casket nes, tnat love's true essence held. 

Oh, mother! motlier! what a thrilling tide 
Flows o'er me at thy name. 

Thy tender cares, 
Thy footstep wearied in this thorny vale, 
The sculptured beauty of thy pale, pale brow, 
Where gentle death restored what ^^ain liad marred^ 
The smooth, benignant foi'ehead, and the smile 
That curved the perfect lip. Let me sit down 
On thy green sepulcher, and talk with thee. 
Still sounds thy thrilling death-moan in my ear. 
Oh, mother! mother! 

Yet it is not well 
To mourn supineh'. Rather let us pay 
Til our own little ones that debt of love 
^Vhicll nothino earthly, save a mother's heart, 

Can comprehend or cancel. Let us strive 
18* 



210 POEMS FOE MOTHERS. 

The good we have received to render back 
Into the bosom of the rising race; 
So shall we keep Heaven's law. 

Sad harp I be still. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 211 



BAPTISM. 

I saw thee on a summer mora, 

Like rose-bud rich and rare," 
Recliuing on the priestly arm, 

Baptismal dew to share; 
And prayed, that all of life below 

Might like that morning shine, 
The name of Christ is on thee, boy, 

So be his spirit thine. 

When circling years thy form shall knit, 

To manhood's sinews stern, 
And many a tempter round thee flit. 

Thy soul from peace to turn. 
Resist the wrong, uphold the riglit. 

Be valiant in the fray, 
The name of Christ is on thee, boy, 

Thou may'st not shrink away. 

And Avhen thy pilgrim-journey here 
Like radiant sunset ends, 



212 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. | 

And to a more exalted sphere ^ 

TLy deathless spirit tends, 
Dread not the summons hence to part, I 

Nor Jordan's billow drear, 
With Christ's dear name upon thy heart, j 

Say what hast thou to fear? 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 213 



LA PETITE SOURD-MUET. 



Child of the speaking eye, 
Child of the voiceless tongue, 

Around whose unresponsive ear 
No harp of earth is rung, — 

There 's one, whose nui-sing care 

Relaxed not night or day, 
Yet ne'er hath heard one lisping word 

Her tenderness repay. 

Though anxiously she strove 
Each uncouth tone to frame, 

•Still vainly listening through her tears 
To catch a mother's name. 

Child of the fettered ear. 

Whose hermit mind must dwell 

Mid all the harmonies of earth 
Lone, in its silent cell. 

Fair bu.lding thoughts are thine, 
With sweet affections wove, 



214 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Aud whispering angels cheer thy dreams 
With minstrels}' of love. 

I know it by the smile 

That o'er thy peaceful sleep 

Glides, like the rosy beam of morn 
To tint the misty deep. 

Child of the pensive brow, 
Search for those jewels rare 

That glow in Heaven's wathhulling hand 
To cheer thy lot of care. 

Hermetically sealed 

To sounds of woe and crime, 

That vex and stain the pilgrim soul 
Amid the toils of time 

By discipline made wise. 

Pass patient on thy way. 
And when rich music loads the air, 

Bow down thy head and j)ray. 

Child of immortal hope. 

Still many a gift is thine, 
The untold treasures of the heart, 

The gems from learning's mine. 



POF.JIS FOR JIOTIIKRS. 215 

Oil think, wliat glorious joy 

Thy ransomed soul shall i^rove, 
Wlien the li])'s life-long cerements burst 

In the piu'e realm of love; 

What rapture, when the ear 

Finds seal and fetter riven, 
And drinks its first baptismal sound 

From the full choir of Heaven. 



216 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



SUDDEN DEATH OF AN ONLY CHILD.* 



Ob, human Lope ! how fVail tliy bloom ; 

Oh, mortal sti-eiigtb ! bow brief thy trust ! 
Ob, heart of love ! how dire the doom 

That strikes thee bleeding to the dust. 

For not more wild the Alpine snows 

In whelming avalanche descend, 
And not more swift the lightning shafts 

The glory of the forest rend, 

Than tlie dark messenger of fate 

On his mysterious mission sped, 
And mid the smile of morning laid 

A form of beauty with the dead. 

We bring an healing, — 't is not ours ! 

The balm-drops for such wound severe 
Is Heaven's blest perquisite alone. 

We only bring thee, tear for tear. 

* Benjamin, the very promising and only child of President and Mrs. 
Pierce, fell » victim to an aeciJeut on the rail-roaJ, at the age of eleven. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 217 

We, who have learned the lore of grief, 
And 'neath the wrecking tempest bowed, 

Yet lived perchance, again to see 
The silver lining of the cloud. 

We speak thy name as sistera speak, 

At deep devotion's hallowed hour, 
For thou art dearer in thy woe. 

Than in the flush of joy or power. 

Warm sympathy thy image keeps 
In halls of wealth, or homes of care, 

And every mourning mother's heart, 

Shall breathe for thee, the tender prayer. 

19 



218 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



*' ANOTHER SUMMER." 



" Another summer," say'st thou, Friend, 

And then thy plans shall be 
Completed? — and thy fan- resolves 

Reduced to certainty ? 

Amid a glorious grove I sate 
When the last solstice glowed, 

Its towering hopes s^^rang thick around, 
And vigorous promise showed, 

And fearless toward the skies uprose 

Its canopy of green, 
While groups of trusting flow'rets peered 

Those sheltering shafts between. 

The Avood man's ax i-ang sharp and shrill,] 

And there, in ruin lay 
The kingly o«ik, and all his peers, 

As on the battle-day. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 219 

"Another summer,'" — so I said 

Unto my precious one, 
The youngest darling of my love, 

My fair and only son. 

His was the swift, untiring foot. 

The firm and graceful form, 
The young, bold heart, that never shrank 

From noontide heat or storm. 

His nineteenth vernal season fled. 

As fondly thus we sj^ake 
Of a new home, 'mid prairies green. 

That soon he hoped to make. 

But now, beside his early grave 

In yon sequestered spot, 
A mothers bursting anguish flows, 

And he regardeth not. 

"Another summer!'''' — do I hear 

From many a turf-clad mound. 
In hollow murmurs, deep and low, 

The same reproving sound ? 

Oh soul ! — if there is aught undone 
Of duty or of lo\e 



220 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

For God, thy neighbor, or thyself, 
A Chi'istian's truth to prove, — 

Haste ! and with undeclining zeal 

Fulfill the Law Divine, 
And wisely spend the fleeting hour, 

The next may not be thine ; — 

Nor load the pang of parting life 
With that despairing moan, 

" The summer 's past, the harvest o'er, 
And my salvation gone." 



rOEMS FOR MOTHERS. 221 



ON THE DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL BOY 
BY CASUALTY. 

" The only son of liis motlicr, and she a widow." 



There are, who o'er the pillow of the sick 

Forget the Great Physician. Drug on drug, 

Potion on potion, fill the anxious thought, 

And when the spoiler strikes the dreaded blow, 

Griefs first wild billow ebbing, leaves the sand 

Strewed with sharp fragments of remembered woe, — 

The ghastly brow, the groan, the glazing eye, 

Perchance some deed omitted, some neglect 

Of nursing care, to harrow up the soul. 

And shroud that deep, unerring love, which prompts 

Heaven's discipline. 

It was not thus with thee. 
Oh, no ! The image of thy blooming boy 
In changeless health dwells with thee. His clear eye 
Beamed radiant to the last. No stern disease 
Bade from the wasted flesh the bones stand forth, 
Or wrung with agony the crisping nerves: 
19* 



222 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

But iu tlie fullness of his earthly joy, 
From childhoocrs banquet, from the tender love 
That cheered him onward from his cradle-dream, 
He went to God. 

The widow's only son, 
Met by the Saviour at the gates of Nain, 
Borne 'mid the weepers to an early grave, 
Rose from his bier, and wondering drank once moi-e 
The troubled cup of life. That Saviour's love 
Is still as strong for thee — though not again 
He calls thy cherished one, to tread the verge 
Of this brief world. Yet shall he raise him up, 
A glorious body, where no surging flood 
Of pain, or sin, or death, may ever dare 
To whelm a victim. 

Human sympathy, 
Alas ! how light when weighed with grief like thine. 
So leave thy widow's sorrows with thy God, 
And, doubting nothing, walk the path of life 
A chastened mourner, yet a girded saint ; 
Meek, but sublime, and with that wisdom armed, 
Which proud prosperity could never teach, 
And in the deathless hope to meet the lost, 
As angels meet, in whose pure dialect 
There is no parting word. 



POEMS FOU MOTHERS. 223 



DAUGHTER'S BIRTH-DAY. 



Those clays have fled awnj, my love, 

Those simple clays, and SAveet, 
When slumbering on my breast you lay, 

Or cradled at my feet; 
Or, with a thousand new-born wiles 

Still made the nursciy fair, 
For I ne'er had felt a joy so pure 

As that you planted there. 

'Tis true, that many a dear delight 

My earlier years had known. 
Parental love's idolatry, 

And the wild harp's thrilling tone, 
Yet still they faded as a dream, 

A scarce remembered speech, 
Before that lesson of the soul 

Which you were sent to teach, 

You were my teacher, though a babe, — 
Of lip, and ear, and eye, 



224 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

By kiss, or tear, or murmured tone 

Of in wrought melody; 
By hopes and fears, from Heaven that flowed 

With such a gushing tide, 
That I blessed you in my heart's deep core, 

With all a mother's pride. 

And sweet one, I remember well, 

As though yestreen it were, 
When the third summer's opening bloom 

Had made your features fair; 
How every morn, with fairy feet, 

Close to my chair you drew. 
To win from pictured page a thought, 

The lily's drop of dew. 

But all those childish days are o'er, 

And youth is on your brow. 
And musing by my side you walk, 

A meet companion now. 
And what the future hath in store, 

Of life's eventful task. 
We may not lift the veil to see, 

Or frame the words to ask. 

Yet well we know the Hand Divine, 
That saved your infant years 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 22; 

ILitli power to keep you to tlie oml, 
Througli sunshine and through teai-s; 

So onward, onward, full of hope, 
My daughter, hold your way. 

And take that wisdom for your guide 
Tliat cannot lead astray. 

Ami when our parting hour shall come, 

Be near, beside my bed. 
And speak those words of Christian faith, 

Which I to you have said ; 
Sit down upon my lowly grave, 

And plant a violet there, 
Or sing the hymn I loved to hear 

At the quiet hour of prayer. 

Oh I sure the strong and hallowed love 

Which in our hearts was sown 
Should ripely bcai* that spirit-flower, 

Whose root is by the Throne, 
Which driuketli of the living stream, 

And of the cloudless ray, 
And 'neath our dear Redeemer's smile, 

Can never fade away. 



226 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE CONSENTING MOTHER. 



"I see green fields, and glorious flowers, 

I see bright streamlets flow, 
Glad voices call to heavenly bowers, 

Sweet mother! let me go." 

His cheek grew pale. Had ghastly death 

Dealt the last fatal blow ? 
No ! — hear once more his pleading breath, 

"Dear mother! let me go!" 

And could her love his soul detain, 

That struggled to be free ? 
And league with the oppressor Pain, 

To -wrest his liberty ? 

" Lord, not my w/Z/," she said, '■'■hut thine P'* 

And high her darling soared. 
And from the skies that ever shine 

A joyous carol poured. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 227 



"LAY HER THERE." 



Lay her wliere tlio lilies grow, 

Where the calla blossoms rare, 
She rejoiced to see them blow. 
She was stainless as their snow, — 
Lay her there. 

Lay her where the violets spread 
When young April opens foir, 
She like them had learned to shed 
FragTance o'er the lowliest bed, — 
Lay her there. 

Lay her Avhere the sweet brier glows, 

Needing not the florist's care, 
In the love that freely flows 
She was sister to the rose, — 
Lay her there. 

Lay her where the fountain clear 
Showers its freshness o'er the air. 



228 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Like its dew-drops sparkling sjAere ' 
Wiis lier spirit pure and dear, — 
Lay lier there. 

Yet let no despairing wail 

Mingle with our funeral prayer, 
For the angels sann; " all hail! " 
While we sighed with sorrow pale,— 
Lay her there. 



POEMS FOU MOTHERS. 229 



CHILD DYING DURING THE MOTHER'S 
ABSENCE 



The mother counted o'er the gifts 

She for her child had bought, 
All rich, and rare, and sparkling 

As were his germs of thought, 
And while the ship lay tossing 

Amid the Atlantic wave, 
She mused upon his noble form, 

" Her beautiful, her brave." 

She imaged forth the rapture 

With which his flying feet 
Would hasten o'er the grassy lawn. 

A parent's kiss to meet ; 
But lo ! a sound of terror ! 

Dark tidings on the gale ! 
Moans of a smitten idol ! 

The mother's cheek, how pale ' 

Lay by thy gifts, sad mourner, 
And bow thee to thy lot, 
20 



230 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

The highest joys that earth can buy, 
An angel heedeth not; 

But thou a precious guerdon 
Unto thy God hast given, 

A young lamb for his altar, 
A dove — to nest in heaven. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 231 



DEPARTED LITTLE ONES. 

'la their mouth was found no guile." — Rev. xiv. 5. 



Forth, as the buds of spring they come, 
Around our hearts they twine, 

With all their growing, winning charms, 
Like tendrils of the vine. 

Yet oft, while in their cloudless joy 

They feel the morning ray, 
And feed upon the dews of love. 

They fleet like dews away 

Soft lisping tones were on their lip. 

Affection's tenderest wile. 
The simple want, the cherished name. 

But not the sound of guile. 

So, all unharmed by falsehood's snares 
That haunt our earthly race, 

Before the great white Throne they stand 
And see our Father's face, 



232 POEMS FOE MOTHERS. 

And in His temple, day and night, 
Do serve him, void of fear. 

Oh ! let the memory of their bliss 
Stay the repining tear. 



POEMS FOK MOTHERS. 233 



DEATH OF A YOUNG MOTHER. 



I little thouglit, when last wo met, 
That tliou so soon woulJst fade, 

Though sickness on thy gentle brow 
Had left a pensive shade. 

Yet gentle beauty lingered there. 

And life to thee was young and fair. 

Earth brought its strong array of charms 

To glad thy path with bliss. 
And warmly did thy heart respond 

To fond affection's kiss, 
Even while it bore like golden band, 
A fitness for the spirit-land. 

There was the love that knew no change, 

Confiding by thy side, 
There was the cherished child, to wake 

Thy tenderness and pride, 
And still, in sympathy divine, 
A mother's soul was knit to thine. 
20* 



234 POEMS FOR MOTHERS 

Yet, while upon a Saviour's arm 
Undoubting faith reposed, 

A sudden call, a seraph smile, 
Thy pilgrim journey closed, — 

As the meek flower on twilight's breast 
Doth fold its leaves and sink to rest. 



POEMS FOU MOTHERS. 235 



BURIAL OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 



Tears for tlie orplian ! — death liath como 

Her beating heart to quell, 
And take away the simple joys 

That here she loved so well. 

Tears for the oi'phan ! — there she lies 
Wrapped in her shroud of white, 

And prayers from hallowed lips ascend 
To bless the funeral rite. 

Then close beside the open grave, 

'Neath the fair summer sky, 
The brother and the sister stand 

With sad and wondering eye. 

While they who gave her liere a home, 

The brief procession led. 
And pitying laid the coffined child 
In her last narrow bed. 

01), Christian love! — be strong! be strong! 
Yon hel})k'ss band t<3 save ; 



236 rOEJIS FOR JIOTHERS. 

Cast without kindred succor forth 
Ou the world's stormy wave. 

Breathe kindness o'er those orphan hearts, 
Oh, Christian love be true! 

And patient raise the smitten plants 
To Heaven's reviving dew. 

For glorious will it be at last, 

To hear our Saviour say, 
The " cup of water," in his name, 

Hath not been cast away. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 237 



THE COXSUMPTIVE. 



Consumption bowed him down, that cherished youth, 

And he, whose tireless foot had never shunned 

To chmb the mountain-difF, drooped wearily. 

'T was sad to find the elastic limbs constrained 

By seci-et fetter, — yet the tyrant took 

No bribe from friend or healer, but each day 

Added new link or rivet to his chain. 

So suddenly the unexpected frost 
Smote the fair tree of life, that brilliant hues 
Kindled and flashed upon the changeful cheek. 
As the staunched heart's-blood stains the maple leaf, 
Preluding quick decay. 

The wasting flesh 
Made nerve and sinew from their tissues start, 
AVbile nights of tossing bade the sufierer's eye 
Watch for the morning. 

Yet the fearless soul 
Rose o'er the wreck unmoved. 

A strength it had 
Which tlie world gave not. It was girded close, 



238 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Not in such armor as the pride of earth 
Works on its sounding anvil, spear and shield, 
But what of old the stripling from the brook 
Had meekly chosen, in Jehovah's name, 
To foil the giant. 

To the mother's ear 
A faint, low voice, most musically sweet. 
Murmured of happiness, a Saviour nigh, 
A ready welcome, an eternal home, 
A gladness to depart. 

And then, the clay 
Lay in strange beauty on its cofBn-bed, 
Its truthful, trustful, heaven-called habitant, 
Having gone homo. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 239 



THE SHELTERED TREASURE. 



Oh, sweet and fair ! whose flight hath filled 

The tender heart M'ith pain, 
"Whose little form to hearth and board 

Must ne'er retm-n again; 

Whose spotless brow, like casket pure, 
From whence the gem hath fled, 

Affection's hand doth shrink to leave 
In dark and moldering bed. 

Art thou not where no blight shall come, 

No tempter spread his wile. 
No sickness waste, uo cloud obscure 

The dear Redeemer's smile ? 

Art thou not of that band of whom 
He said, with wondrous grace, 

*' Behold ! their angels always stand 
Before my Father's face ? "^ 



240 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE DESERTED NEST. 



Flown, flown, my warbling friends! Your cunning 

house 
Quite empty ? But n few sliort days it seems 
Since first we spied you, a strange, breathing mass, 
Unfledged and shapeless, Avith large staring eyes, 
And ever open beak. We often came 
To inspect your airy tenement, because 
Your parents were our lodgers, in a nook 
Of the piazza, where close vine-leaves curled, 
And thatched it like a cottage. 

They were out 
Most of their time upon the busy wing, 
Catering for your support; no sinecure 
'T would seem, with such an eager chirp you took 
Whate'er they brought, and were so soon prepared 
For new supplies. At first they were ill-pleased 
To find us watching there, having slight cause 
To count our race their friends, but grew betimes 
Quite passive to our visits, and partook 
Our scattered crums complacently. 



rOEMS FOR MOTUEllS. 241 

But now 
You 're fledged and gone, and we shall miss your voice 
At nioru and eve. Metliinks you were too young 
To try your fortune in this world of snares, 
And in the ignorance of infancy 
Seek your own sustenance. 

Y(jt this wide earth 
Is your refectory, and tlie slight leaf 
That shivereth on the gale, and the seamed trunk, 
And the fresh furrow where the plowman toils, 
Spread to your microscopic eye, a feast 
Ready and full. Our Father feedeth you. 
Ye gather not in store-house or in barn. 
Ye have no need, — ye find your meat from him. 
Would that we had your simple trust, oh birds, 
When from our nests the darlings w^e have reared 
Take the exploring flight. We may not go 
To guard them from the archer, or to mark 
How those young pinions we have seen expand, 
Feather by feather, bear them in the fray ; 
Yet 't is God's Universe, and he is there. 

So, though our homes are desolate and lone, 
Like your forsaken nest, fain would wo add 
To our weak faith the carol of vour praise. 
21 



242 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE PERSIAN FLOWER* 



Behold her in her mission horne^ 

That graceful child of sparkling eye^ 

Comniuuing with the solemn stars 
That sprinkle Oroomiah's sky. 

Behold hef, like the hright-winged birds, 
That full of joy the branches throng, 

Warbling her sweet spontaneous lay^ 
Or raising high the sacred song. 

Behold her in her daily course, 
Fond pupil of a mother's care, 

Her hand by filial love inspired, 
That gentle teacher's toils to share. 

The nurse of every little child 
That to her arms delighted flies, 

• This is the title of an interesting memoir of a very lovely daughter 
of the Rev. Dr. Justia Perkins, missionary to the Nestorians, who died 
of cholera at tlie ago of twelve, deeply mourned both by ChTistian» 
and heathen. 



rOEMS FOR JIOTIIERS. 243 

Tho friend of heathon rude and wild, 
The tauglit of Hi-avon, the early wise. 

Now see her guide her palfre}' white, 
O'er mountain steep 'mid tropic heat. 

And hear her 'ueath the tent at night 
Her holy Bible strain repeat. 

Toward Ararat, at morning tide, 
She lifts a meek, expectant eye ; 

Parents and brother by her side — 
Alas, she journeys on to die ! 

To die! Oil, mourning hearts, be still; 

Look to the clime where angels soar — 
Where, by the river of the blest. 

Your "Pej-sian flower" shall fade no more. 



244 roEirs foe mothees. 



ARRIVAL OF THE CHILDREN OF 
MISSIONARIES. 



Borne o'er the billows proud and dark, 

What gentle forms protection claim ? — 
As to the casement of the ark, 

The timid dove confiding came; 
Warm Asia's sun hath kissed their cheek. 

And where the palm-tree towers suhlime, 
Their lisping voices learned to speak, — 

Why turn they toward this western clime ? 

Their father i landt---\\& haunts are dear 

To those who nursed their infant dream, 
And glittering with affection's tear 

Is each remembered rock and stieam ; 
And oft each well-depicted scene 

Did these young strangers' thought explore^ 
For still their cradle hymn had been 

An echo from this hallowed shore. 

Bright links of love, — their parents' band 
Hath east them o'er the stormy main, 



rOKMS KOR .MOIIIKRS. 245 

To l)in(l us to tlic niission-band, 

By liviiio; moinory's goklcn chain; 
To kindle love's more ardent care 

For the sad realms of pagan woe, 
And bid iijion our lips, the prayer 

Of quickened faith, intenser glow. 

They come ! they come ! in tender trust, 

While some deplore, with anguish fraught. 
Their guide, their mother, laid in dust. 

Amid the hoathen hand she taught; 
And will not breasts to pitv dear, 

Find refuge for those birds that roam ? 
Is there no Chiistian mother heie. 

To giv>' tlii'ui in hiT heart a home'! 



246 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



THE WESTERN BABY. 



Bud of beauty, early blighted, 

Scion from a noble stem, 
O'er thy pillow, Hope, benighted, 

Tearful drops her faded gem. 

Visions of parental gladness 
With thy last pulsation fled. 

And the cloud of funeral sadness 
O'er thy peaceful mansion spread. 

Though yon glorious western valleys 
Never more thy feet shall press, 

Nor thine eyes behold the prairies 
Robed in flowery loveliness, 

Yet, to purer regions soaring, 

Thou hast found a clime more fair, 

'Mid a cherub host adoring; — 
Mother seek thy darling there. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 247 



THE UABBI, AND THE JEWELS. 



Twilight was deepening to tlie tinge of eve, 

When toward his home, 'mid ancient Israel's vales, 

A stately Rabbi drew. His camels spied 

Afor the palm-tree's graceful boughs that fringed 

The pure, domestic fount, and eagerly 

Plied with swift feet across the dewy glade. 

The holy man his peaceful threshold passed 

With gladdened step. The evening meal was spread, 

And she who from life's morn his heart had shared 

Breathed the fond welcome. Bowing o'er the board, 

The blessing of his fathers' God he souglit, 

Ruler of earth and sea. Then with a glance 

Of sparkling pleasure spake : 

" Wife, call our sons, 
That I may bless them ere their hour of sleej)." 

The observant mother spake with gentle voice 
Somewhat of soft excuse, that they were wont 
To linger long amid the Prophet's school, 



248 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Studying Lliat sacred Law their tatlier loved. 
The sweet repast with sweet discourse was blent, 
Of journeying and return. 

" Would thou hadst seen 
With me, how the young morning bathed in light 
Yon mountain summits, whose blue, waving line 
Scarce meets thine eye, where chirp of joyous birds, 
And breath of fragrant shrubs, and spicy gales, 
And sigh of waving boughs, stirred in the soul 
AVarm orisons. 

" Yet most I wished thee near, 
Amid the temple's pomp, when the high-priest, 
Clad in his robe pontifical, invoked 
The God of Abraham, while from lute and harp. 
Cymbal and trump and psaltery, and the shout 
Of all our people, like the swelling sea. 
Loud halleluiahs burst. 

" When next I seek 
Blest Zion's glorious hill, our beauteous boys 
Must bear me company. Their early prayers 
Will rise as incense. Thy too tender love 
No longer must detain them. The new toil 
Will give them sweeter sleep, and touch their cheek 
With brighter crimson. 



POEMS FOR iMOTIIERS. 249 

" 'Mid their raven curls 
My hand I 'II lay, and dedicate them there 
In those most holy courts, to Israel's God, 
Two spotless lambs, well pleasing in his sight. 
But yet, methinks thou 'rt paler grown, my love ! 
And the pure sapphire of thine eye looks dim, 
As though 't were vpashed with tears," 

Faintly she smiled. 
" One doubt, my lord, I fain would have thee solvQ.. 
Gems of rich luster, and of countless price 
Were to my koeping trusted. Now, alas ! 
They are demanded. Must they be restored ? 
Or may I not a little longer gazo 
Upon their dazzling hues ? " 

Ills eye grew stem, 
And on his lip there lurked a sudden curl 
Like indignation. " Doth my wife propose 
Such doubt? as if the owner might not claim 
His own again ?" "Kay, Rabbi, come behold 
These precious jewels, ere I yield them back." 
So to their curtained chamber, with slow step, 
Her lord she led. There, on a snow-white couch 
Lay his two sons, pale, pale and motionless, 
Like fair twin-lilies, which some grazing kid 
In wantonness had cropped. 



250 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

" My sons ! my sons ! 
Light of my eyes!" — the smitten father cried, — 
" My teachers in the Law ! whose guileless hearts 
And prompt obedience, warned me oft to be 
More perfect with my God ! " 

To earth he fell, 
Like Lebanon's rent cedar, while his breast 
Heaved with such groans, as when the laboring soul 
Breaks from its clay companion's strong embrace. 
The mourning mother turned away and wept 
Till his first storm of passionate grief was still; 
Then pressing to his cheek her faded lip 
She sighed in tones of tremidoiis tenderness, 
"Thou didst instruct me. Rabbi, how to yield 
The summoned jewels, Lo! the Lord did give ; 
The -Lord hath taken away." 

" Yea ! " said the sire, 
"And blessed be his name ! Even for thy sake 
Thrice blessed be Jehovah ! " 

Long he pressed 
On those cold, marble brows his quivering lip; 
Then kneeling low% those chastened spirits poured 
"^heir nightly homage. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 251 



FINDING NEW HOMES. 



God of our cliildren, hear our prayer, 
When from their homes thoy part, 

Those idols of our fondest care, 
Those jewels of the heart. 

We miss their smile in hall and bower, 
We miss their voice of cheer, 

We speak their names at midnight hour, 
When none but Thou dost hear. 

God of their spirits ! be their stay. 

When from the parents' side 
Their boat is launched, to find its way 

O'er life's tempestuous tide ; 

Tho' tossed 'mid breakers wild and strong. 
Its veering helm should stray 

Where sirens wake the mermaid song- 
Protect their venturous way. 



I 
252 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. T 

And by Thy wisdom keep their mind 

From every evil free, 
Until, at last, through Christ, they find 

A. changeless home, with Thee. 



rOEMS FOR MOTHERS. 253 



FAITH. • 

There sate upon the mother'a knee 

In love supremely blessed, 
An infant fair, and full of glee, 

Caressing and caressed ; 
While hovering Hope, with gladness mild, 

And ej-e cerulean blue, 
Bent sweetly down to kiss the child, 

And kiss the mother too • 

Then Memory came, with serious mien, 

And looking back the while, 
Threw such a shadow o'er the scene 

As dimmed affection's smile. 
For stiU to fancy's brightest houre 

She lends a hue of care. 
And bitter odors to the flowers 

That wreathed Hope's sunny hair. 

But in that happy mother's soul 
Each cloud of gloom was brief, 
22 



254 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Too pure her raptured feelings roll 
To wear tlie tinge of grief, 

For Prayer around her idol boy 
Its radiant vesture tlirew, 

And Faitli obtained a higher joy 
Than Hope or Memory knew. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 256 



THE PLEASANT MEMORY. 



A form was shrinking from the breath 

Of each unfriendly gale, 
That twelve short^summera scarce had reared 

In beauty sweetly frail, 
And soon, no more, for pastime gay 

She left her quiet chair ; — 
A pleasant memory is that child, 

With cheek so pale and fair. 

A thin and trembling hand she raised, 

The water-drop to shed 
Upon the winter-sheltered plants 

That blossomed round lier bed ; 
And then her gentle head she laid 

Beneath the unsullied snow; — 
A pleasant memory is the child 

Who slumbereth there so low. 

There beamed a thought, a holy smile, 
No pencil's power could paint. 



256 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

As of a strange, new happiness 
She spoke in murmurs faint; 

Then, like a babe, by mother hilled, 
Closed soft the wearied eye ; — 

A pleasant memory is the child 
Who hath her home on hiffh. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 257 



THE NEW MOTHER. 



The "Westering sun was briglit and fair, 
As gayly round the father's chair 

A group of younglings played. 
But as their hour of rest drew nigh, 
They gathered closer 'neath his eye 
The accustomed sacred hymn to sing, 
That soothed the day's departing wing. 

And hailed the evening shade. 

Then, as it ceased, the father said. 
And tenderly his accents fell, 
*' Sweet flock ! I've pleasant news to tell ! 
Long has our home been lone and drear, 
Since she, that blessed mother dear, 
Whose name awakes your starting tear, 

Went to a heaven of rest. 
But God hath heard cur sorro^viiig prayer, 
And ke[it us in his pitying care. 
Unbroken, though distressed; 
And now, by his irnol (rrviQ I'll bring 



258 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

Another bird with sheltering wing 

To your forsaken nest; 
And if you hold her choice and dear, 
And by your loving goodness cheer, 

She '11 make our household blest." 

Joy filled each little heart, and store 
Of thanks from ruby lips ran o'er. 
While kiss and promise sweetly blent 
GaiA'e his confiding soul content. 

" And you, my youngest dove, 
Whose baby memory failed to keep 
Her image pure who watched your sleep 
Even with an angel's tireless love. 
Until she rose to them above, 
Two added yeai-s of health have brought 
To tuneful sound your budding thought, 
And you will cling with winning charms 
To a new mother's fostering arras; 
Your pretty, prattling tongue she'll guide, 
And let you gambol by her side." 

Then, in a precinct of their own. 

Within the nursery's quiet zone, 

With heads drawn close, and tones subdued, 

They the delightful theme pursued, 



PUEMS FOR MOTHERS. 259 

Mingling witli its pleasing fire 
Somewhat of their own desire. 
Earnest the child-council sate 
In parliamentary debate, 
And ere the conclave found a close 
A fitting delegate they chose, — 
A merry boy with courteous air. 
Free and fearless, frank and fair, 
Their message to the sire to bear. 

He stood beside the father's knee, 
Threw back his curls, and thus spake he : 

" Father ! we children all agree 
To ask you 'd bring us home to stay 
A mother u'ho knows how to play, 
To play and laugh. 

Do, father dear, 
Make haste, and bring that mother here." 



2G0 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 



BRIGHTNESS AND SWEETNESS. 



There 's a glorious light at the gates of the west, 
When the summer suu pjisseth tlirough to his rest, — 
'T is briglit on the lake where the moonbeam sKjit, 
And the tear is pure which the dews have wept; 
But there shines no light beneath the sky 
Like that which beams from a mother's eye. 

The harp is sweet at its dj'ing close. 

And the hum of the bee from the breast of the rose, 

And the song of the bird when she rises high 

From her chirping nest, through the vernal sky ; 

But earth hath no sound so sweet to hear 

As the voice of a babe to its mother's car. 



POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 2G1 



PARTING THOUGHTS. 



Oh, tliiuk of me, sweet friends ! 

When I ura far away, — 
At the hour w^hcn spirit-voices talk, 
And the heart doth in its garden walk 

At the closing of the day. 

Oh, speak of me, sweet friends ! 

When I am in the tomb; 
And let the seeds we planted here 
Of holy fj'iendship, pure and dear, 

Put forth perennial bloom. 

Remember me, sweet friends ! 

Though I return no more. 
Yet not with brow or word of gloom, 
Bend ye above her lowly tomb, 

Whose cai'es and pains are o'er. 

Oh, love me still, sweet friends! 
Though vanished from your sight 



262 POEMS FOR MOTHERS. 

For a little space between us lies 
Of eartlily smiles and eartlily sighs, — - 
So keep the love-chain bright. 



HIO* 89 " 




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^ECKMAN Ixll :^^^: to ' 






INDERY INC 

DEC 88 



N. MANrWFQTCC 



